Wistful Memories…

I was moving the sprinkler this morning and realized I should probably capture the material evidence of my pitching efforts over the last year, since the whole thing feels like a hazy dream.
These black patches of wornaway grass, a few baseballs that my children now play with, and some dents in my garage are the last traces of my efforts to retrieve my youthful pitching prowess.

Worn away grass from my cleats

Baseballs turned to toys

Baseball dents in my garage

No e-mail of response from Jim Rantz, in case any of you were wondering. Ah well.


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