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An impressive defense of Mom’s basement →

2011 Mar 25 1 min read
Published by Lee Reamsnyder Permalink

In actual Little League baseball games, against real young men throwing as hard as they could from 40 feet away, my nerve was shaky, and my form was a blend of tentative aggression and blatant fear, but in the basement my stance was balanced, and my swing was pure, and I hit everything on a line — exploding fastballs and filthy sliders and back-breaking curves, everything. No pitcher alive or dead could ever throw anything by me in my mother’s basement.

Joe Posnanski, deftly destroying the “blogger in their mother’s basement” cliché.

← Older post Someone tell this dog that everything is all right → Newer post THOSE ARE MY SHOES

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