LOS ANGELES — Sharing my favorite story about Vin Scully requires me to make a confession: When I was traveling around the country in my mid- to late-20s as the Dodgers beat writer for this newspaper, I liked to go out.
Almost every night on the road was a party, and more than once I showed up to the ballpark the next day in some degree of physical discomfort.
I had one particularly painful experience in Colorado. I was severely hungover, some colleagues teasing me while others were offended that I would show up to work in that condition. With my head pounding and my eyes feeling as if they had knives stuck in them, I didn't want to hear any of it.
