What?  I can say that.  I had two grandfathers.  And there wasn’t a family event that could transpire without one of them telling a story about riding the trolley to Shibe Park or hurling a catcher’s a mask through “that asshole ump Dan O’Flaherty’s windshield for calling a crooked game.”

I had two very different grandfathers.

But if there is one thing old men love as much as baseball, it is the past.  And in the Delaware Valley, Tommy Greene is a man who brings those two things together.

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