When you hear someone talk about how they have a batting cage in their basement, what do you think?
“Man, that’s a big fuckin’ basement,” comes to mind. Also, “Holy moly, you have money.” I also think, “Goddamn I’m jealous.”
How awesome would that be, to come home after a stressful day, and just start cracking the bat & feeling that delicious thunk when the ball collided into your swing?
I’m not sporty. Never really have been. The one thing I could marginally do, at least exceeding expectations of those around me, was hit a softball with a bat. Perhaps it is the degree of solidness I bring to the plate. There isn’t any amazing upper-body strength, that’s for sure. But I always got an extra degree of smug satisfaction seeing the softball sail right on by the motherfucking first baseman, or second baseman, or shortstop, or pitcher, or third baseman, because all of them had moved forward about five feet when they saw me come up to bat. (We won’t talk about the running. Run-ning. Not so great. But still. They were runnin’, too, to get that ball. HAH!)
I feel like I’m walloping off the softballs today. It feels good, if not a little exhausting. Hope you’re having a productive, walloping sort-of-day yourself!