Oy. I've been working on the opening chapter of the baseball novel now for close to 5 hours now, and I've about had enough. I think I'm getting close to nailing down the voice of my protagonist, and I'm enjoying it much more than I was at about seven o'clock this morning, when all of it looked like so much gobbledygook.

So here's where you come in -- I've got three sets of openings below, in no particular order, and I was wondering which one you liked best. Drop me a comment with your preferred opening, and feel free to say as little or as much as you want to. I appreciate it! I'm way too close to it to be impartial... thanks!

1. Even though every step he took on the thawing ground sent needles of pain into his knees, George Grunion refused to sit down in the visitors' dugout. If he sat down, he knew he'd be tempted to pull out the two letters he'd written that morning before today's games. And if he took out those letters -- letters addressed to a family he hadn't seen in over two and a half decades, letters he knew he'd never send -- he'd end up reading them again, and he'd be useless to his players.
   
   And his team needed him. The team and the game itself kept him going at the age of sixty-four, or, as he liked to call it, sixty-sour. He vowed not to sit down and rest his aching knees. He had a job to do.
   
   
2. George Grunion knew he shouldn't have brought the letters to the game. He should've dropped them off at the post office or left them at home with all the others he'd never mailed.
   
   Instead, sitting in the dugout, surrounded by the smells of popcorn and pine tar, he unfolded the first letter, still damp from his uniform pocket. Without ever looking at the words on the page, he then folded it up again into three precise, equal segments. The letter went back into his pocket, tight against the second letter, which was almost identical to the first.
   
   
3. Even though every step I took on the thawing ground sent needles of pain into my knees, I refused to sit down in the visitors' dugout. If I sat down, I'd just be tempted to pull out the two letters I'd written this morning before today's games. And if I took out those letters -- letters addressed to a family I hadn't seen in over two and a half decades, letters I knew I'd never send -- I'd end up reading them again. I'd be useless to my players.
   
   And my team needed me. The team and the game itself kept me going at the age of sixty-four, or, as I liked to call it, sixty-sour. I vowed not to sit down and rest my aching knees. I had a job to do.

So...? What do you think? Which one grabbed you the most?

Thanks for playing! Your parting gift will be in the mail... Now I'm off to soak my head. Later!