Two ninety-year-old men, Moe and Sam, had been lifelong friends. Sam was dying of cancer, and Moe visited him daily.
"Sam," said Moe, "we've both loved baseball all our lives and played minor league ball together for years. Do me a favor. When you get to Heaven—and I know you will—somehow let me know if there's baseball up there."
Sam looked up from his deathbed. "Moe, you've been my best friend for years. Of course, I'll tell you."
Shortly after, Sam passed away.
A few nights later, at midnight, Moe was sound asleep when a blinding flash of white light and a voice woke him: "Moe... Moe..."
"Who is it?" Moe sat up suddenly.
"Moe, it's me, Sam."
"Come on. You're not Sam. Sam just died."
"I'm telling you, it's me, Sam!"
"Sam? Is that you? Where are you?"
"I'm in heaven," said Sam, "and I've got good news and a little bad news."
"Tell me the good news first," said Moe.
"The good news is there is baseball in heaven. Better yet, all our old buddies who've gone before us are here. Better yet, we're all young men again. Better yet, it's always springtime, and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play baseball all we want and never get tired!"
"Really?" said Moe. "That's great! But what's the bad news?"
"Ahhh... Moe, you're pitching next Tuesday."