It's good to be the BigMan. He roused himself from sleep confident in the knowledge that the world was his for the taking. Engineering projects were child's play. Cold call RFPs bowed to his sweet written words and golden number crunching. His ten man (one lady) crew took his cue and made his dreams real.

He was a motivator, a manager, a craftsman.
Master of his Destiny.

Then he got the call...

theHost sought his attention. The HPT home game would be in Latham tonight.

Was he ready?

Could he overcome hammer suckouts? Would his mind melt at the sight of his Aces getting cracked again and again and again?

Was he mentally tough enough to engage Mr. Friendly's incessant blathering?

Would he be able to push rock like Coopers and maniac BMWs off their hands, or better yet, show the best hand?

Would he?..Could he?..Shall he?

He was the fuggin' Iron Man! First dubbed the BigMan in this space months ago, he believed in his own BIGNESS!

Now he is the MillionDollarMan and the world was his if he just asked.

Will he be there, theHost asks.

Will he be there?

Will he be there?

Of course he will. Ready to crush the table with his fists.

See you there, my man.  ¶ 12:49 PM