You’d swear sometimes that baseballs can see. The one that goes so deep into the hole that the shortstop can only pick it and hold it. The blooper between two charging fielders. I’m not talking about twisty hits, the infield spins I can control. I mean the ball that skids low for no reason and goes under an infield glove or the halfway hop that handcuffs a third baseman. The balls seem to know where they’re going.
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