“I haven’t played ball in a while,” I tell the catcher as I dig my feet into the batter’s box. He gives me an empty, post-internet, expressionless look. He squats down.
I tighten my grip, and the bottom of the baguette begins crumbling under the pressure. The pitch comes and I swing for the fences beyond the fences, connecting with the sweet spot. The ball sails over the apartment wall and my temporary teammates cheer.
note: i thought of this piece after buying a baguette from a local grocery store and thinking back to my baseball days. after I published this I did some research and found a video online of people doing this as well as a facebook page devoted to the “sport”
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