Sitting in the press box at Osceola County Stadium (Astros) right now swapping old Vero Beach stories with a veteran out-of-town writer who is a longtime close buddy of mine, and I’m starting to realize that this is all going to be over in less than a week. No more Bobby’s. No more Ocean Grill. No more Ay Jalisco. No more Villa Nova. Tonight, when I go back, it will be my last trip ever down the Florida Turnpike, except for that short leg 200 miles south of here that I have to take to get to Dolphin Stadium three days a year. No more Dodgertown. And no more Vero Beach. I’m trying to be sad. I’m trying to feel the way I felt the last few days before I graduated high school, or the last few days before I left Denver and Cincinnati for what at the time were greener pastures. But somehow, I just can’t muster it. Somehow, I just can’t cry for Dodgertown. And the funny thing is, after being down here for four weeks now, I don’t get the impression the good people of Vero Beach are crying for it, either. What I have noticed is a lot more people from Los Angeles coming down to take advantage of their last chance to see the place, and that’s a wonderful thing to see. But I also know I’ll see a lot MORE of those people in Glendale, and that will be even better.