Two 90-year-old men, Moe and Joe, had been friends all of their lives. When it

was clear that Joe was dying, Moe visited him every day.

One day Moe said, "Joe, we both loved baseball all our lives, and we played

minor league ball together for so many years. Please do me one favor: when you

get to Heaven, somehow, you must let me know if there's baseball there."

Joe looked up at Moe from his deathbed, "Moe, you've been my best friend for

many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favor for you."

Shortly after that, Joe passed on. At midnight a couple of nights later, Moe

was awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice

calling out to him, "Moe, Moe."

"Who is it?" asked Moe, sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?"

"Moe -- it's me, Joe."

"You're not Joe. Joe just died."

"I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insisted the voice.

"Joe! Where are you?"

"In Heaven," replied Joe.

"I have some really good news and a little bad news."

"Tell me the good news first," said Moe.

"The good news," Joe said, "is that there's baseball in Heaven. Better yet, all

of our old buddies who died before us are here, too. Better than that, we're

all young again. Better still, it's always springtime, and it never rains or

snows. And best of all, we can play baseball all we want, and we never get

tired."

"That's fantastic," said Moe.

"It's beyond my wildest dreams!"

"So what's the bad news?"

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"You're pitching Tuesday."