Why can’t I be more mature?
I’m not sure if it were 1976-77 or even 1978. Larry David, Bobby Kelton and I had decided to watch the All-Star game at Larry’s place—an old railroad apartment that led from the tiny kitchen through the bedroom finally to Larry’s living room. We were all in our mid-twenties, which was about the same age as the many of the ball players. During the game we argued about our usual trivial things, Larry and Bobby going at it with more ferocity. To this day we’d have serious and sometimes heated discussions about things like: would Julius Caesar rather have lived as Emperor and be dead now, or would he prefer to live now as a middle class blue color worker? These discussions could go on for hours with no resolution. In the meanwhile the American league was getting slaughtered. Catfish Hunter gave up several runs in his one or two innings of work. During the game he was interviewed. He had already showered and was dressed in a grown up suit. Catfish was in a calm, almost jovial mood. We were all amazed at his attitude, none more so than Larry, he couldn’t believe how Catfish, who had just gotten bombed in front of millions of people, was acting so mature. After all, one audience member with a disparaging expression on his face could ruin Larry’s set and entire night.
The game had become a route so Bobby and I decided to leave. As we walked out, Larry started screaming, about how come he couldn’t be that mature, he’s as old as Catfish. He could be that mature. Bobby and I turned around and looked down the long hallway into the LD’s living room, and there was Larry wearing his Yankee batting helmet, Yankee T-shirt, and pounding his fist into his glove, screaming, “I could be an adult. I’m an adult. Why can’t I be more mature!”