The truck screeched to a stop about ten yards from us. A voice came from the blackness behind the wheel of the pickup: “Y’all take a picture of us!”

You often hear about how there are two types of baseball fans in America: the die-hards and the casual fans. We expected this to hold true in Tokyo. We were wrong. The rabidity of the fans at the Tokyo Dome proved that we sure as hell weren’t in Kansas City anymore.

A year ago, I grew very tired of whatever I had been doing. I decided to engage some temporary manifest destiny and go west. Thanks to the graciousness of my host, I was able to explore San Diego and its vast desert backyard. This is what I saw.