Saturday mornings I drag my ass over to paint lines and set up goals. I also get to spray paint notes to my son on the sidelines! Interesting how things change over a lifetime. Scoot past Jack’s arrival a half decade ago and travel to Boston of fifteen years past. What was young Frankie doing at 25? Well if it was 6:30AM in April I was already getting sick of the early sunlight and thinking about finally going to bed. I might be dialing a cab for a ride back from wherever the hell I was or wondering how many people to boot out of my apartment to make it quiet enough to sleep.