I didn’t become a fan of baseball until I was in my early twenties. As a teenager, I thought sports were antithetical to the sort of arty, book-reading persona that I had been trying so hard to affect.
When the time came for its demolition, there was no implosion at Shea Stadium.
I trace the windup with my elbow, my arm like a wing
unfurling, red lace licking off my feathertips.
Nobody could be quite certain where it started, but Mr. Met was the first anyone noticed.
March 7, 2015
Spring Training - Cactus League
Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim
vs.
Oakland Athletics
Hohokam Stadium
Mason, AZ
Los
“I thought it was boring,” he told me, “partly because I'd just learned English. But learning the language and the terminology and how the game is played was the big change.”
We're hoping to hear some passion tonight at the hotel if we cup our ears up to the door of their room.
You could tell Heather was a catcher by looking at her thighs, but she brought an infielder's mitt to the game that day.
There is no bond quite like the one Yankees fans in New England share.
PS – This film deserves its every cult and to be ranked even beyond into the commonly over-valued status of a classic
Here in Philadelphia, there’s a comfortable familiarity in the air, a sense of impending mediocrity to which every lifelong Phillies fan has grown accustomed. The bandwagon is empty, the ride over.
Throw one hundred miles per hour, fastballs so fast the shortstop slaps you on the ass at the end of the inning.
David
Could be anyone by now. I hope he's okay. I hope they're all okay.
We’re speaking of salvation, god damn it,
And only the incurious break slumps.
Last season I knew good and goddamn well, even before April gave way to May, that the White Sox weren’t going to be challenging for any titles. That’s not to say I was disinterested. The 2014 Sox
For the last few years, we've asked some of our favorite writers and contributors and known baseball fans to "predict the season," a kind of Hobart version of an expert's panel of predictions on,
On 14 September 1990, Ken Griffey Sr. hit a home run, and Ken Griffey Jr., the very next batter, also hit a home run, making them the only father–son combo in Major League Baseball history to hit
I learned about @DidMetsLose2Day because someone I followed retweeted a post.
Tommy “Teebs” Pico was a Queer/Art/Mentors inaugural fellow, 2013 Lambda Literary fellow in poetry, and has poems in BOMB, Guernica, and [PANK]. Originally from the Viejas Indian reservation of the Kumeyaay nation, he now lives in Brooklyn and curates the reading series Poets With Attitude (PWA) with Morgan Parker. @heyteebs
The birds lift their blue feet in a slow and deliberate seduction.
Gravity bends light. Gravitational attraction between masses results in a warping of space and time.
What is a Z
Eye-phones, Cell-phones, and maybe Pie-phones
We were homeless. We stole blankets, sheets. We took provisions. We carried our houses inside us.
Seinfeld near tits is an innovative sight. A billionaire can only be cropped next to libidinous events with CGI. It appears comedians struggle to retrieve their teeth back from fame.
