This morning found me at JAG for an early physical therapy appointment for my back. I've been going now 3X/week for 2 weeks now, and feel like I'm making some good improvement. I'm standing next to the table I'm about to lie down on for therapy when an old, short guy shuffles, grinning, out of one of the private rooms they have. I look at him, look away, and then look back as he wanders past me. Yep, Yogi Berra. Apparently, he is there several times a week for PT. Old catcher's joints, I'm sure. Although he's known as one of the goofiest men in sports, I would imagine he could go wherever he wants for PT. That makes me think I'm in good hands.
Update - A picture (a crappy one, yes, but it was taken surreptitiously)! I actually went over and chatted with him today, asked him a question about an old baseball play that my dad wanted to know (Bill Johnson at 3rd!), and shook hands with the guy. Silly, but it will be pretty cool to tell my kids one day that I met and chatted with the Yogster.
