Detwiler, like he does during the season before his starts, will wake up without an alarm. He will eat small meals continuously throughout the day, loading up on as many calories as he can without having a big meal. And then, in the afternoon, he will take the ball with the Nationals’ playoff future in his hands.
Don’t believe me?
Compare that passage to one from this story:
It’s 6 a.m., and Hicks has been up almost an hour. He’s shaved, made his bed, gotten dressed and read for a while in his cell.
At 10 minutes after 6, he says he’ll pass on the prison breakfast: toast, peanut butter, cereal, pineapple juice, coffee — with six packets of sugar. At 6:25 a.m., he changes his mind and opts for a couple of sweet rolls. Nine minutes later he brushes his teeth, then sits down to read the Bible.
At 6:40 a.m. he tries the call to Mom again. Still no luck. He decides to take a shower.
It’s now 6:44 a.m. on Nov. 29, 2005. Hicks doesn’t have long to complete the call.
In a little more than three hours he’s scheduled to be executed.
I report, you decide.