Two ninety-year-old men, Moe and Sam, have been friends all their lives. It seems that Sam is dying, and Moe comes to visit him every day. "Sam," says Moe, "You know how we have both loved baseball all our lives, and how we played minor league ball together for so many years. Sam, you have to do me one favor. When you get to Heaven, and I know you will go to Heaven, somehow you've got to let me know if there's baseball in Heaven" Sam looks up at Moe from his death bed, and says, "Moe, you've been my best friend many years. This favor, if it is at all possible, I'll do for you." And shortly after that, Sam passes on. It is midnight a couple of nights later. Moe is sound asleep when he is awakened by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calls out to him, "Moe.... Moe...." "Who is it?" says Moe sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?" "Moe, it's me, Sam." "Come on. You're not Sam. Sam just died." "I'm telling you," insists the voice. "It's me, Sam!" "Sam? Is that you? Where are you?" "I'm in heaven," says Sam, "and I've got to tell you, I've got really good news and just a little bad news." "So, tell me the good news first," says Moe. "The good news," says Sam "is that there is baseball in heaven. And all our old buddies who've gone before us are there. Better yet, we're all young men again. And it's always spring time and it never rains or snows. But best of all, we can play baseball all we want, and we never get tired!" "Really?" says Moe, "That is fantastic, wonderful beyond my wildest dreams! But, what's the bad news?" "You're pitching next Tuesday."
