#baseball coach Florida

[vaughnsportsacademy]

5 Reasons to Choose VSA as Your Athlete's Baseball Training Academy

As a parent, you want to give your children opportunities that nurture their talents, build their character, and prepare them for the future. If you're looking for the best baseball academy in Boca Raton, Florida, Vaughn Sports Academy (VSA) is an exceptional choice. Here are five compelling reasons VSA should be your top pick when selecting baseball academies for your young athlete.

Top-tier coaching staff

Vaughn Sports Academy is renowned for its exceptional coaching staff, which is comprised of former professional players and seasoned MLB coaches who bring experience and expertise to the academy. These coaches are skilled in teaching the technical aspects of baseball, such as batting and pitching, and fostering the mental and emotional development of young athletes. 

Professional baseball coaches like Mike Easler, Omar Moreno, Ben Rivera, Wally Horsman, Vic Gutierrez, and Yamid Haad have all played at the highest levels and now dedicate their time to mentoring the next generation of baseball stars. Their commitment to high-quality instruction ensures that your child will receive Major League-level baseball training in Florida​​​​.

Comprehensive training program

At VSA, baseball training goes beyond just playing the game. The academy offers a holistic approach to player development that encompasses physical conditioning, mental toughness, and skill refinement. The state-of-the-art baseball facility in Boca Raton includes multiple batting cages, pitching machines, and a fully equipped gym for high-performance training. This environment is designed to help athletes develop strength, agility, and resilience.

Moreover, Vaughn Sports Academy strongly emphasizes correct mechanics to ensure that players can perform consistently and at their best. Whether your child is working on their swing, pitching form, or fielding techniques, VSA's comprehensive programs are tailored to help them succeed on and off the field​​​​.

Personalized coaching and small group sessions

Vaughn Sports Academy is committed to personalized, one-to-one baseball coaching. The academy limits the number of participants in its baseball camps to ensure that each athlete receives individual attention and tailored instruction. This approach allows coaches to identify and address each player's unique strengths and areas for improvement.

The close-knit environment offered by in-person coaching and baseball camps fosters strong relationships between coaches and athletes, ensuring your child feels supported and motivated. This personalized coaching is key in helping young players reach their full potential and stand out to baseball scouts and recruiters​​.

Emphasis on character-building and teamwork

Vaughn Sports Academy’s staff understands that succeeding as an athlete involves more than just physical skills. The academy strongly emphasizes building character, teamwork, and sportsmanship. Through its baseball programs, young athletes learn the importance of discipline, hard work, and perseverance.

Athletes are taught to handle pressure, overcome setbacks, and maintain a positive attitude, both on and off the baseball diamond. These values are integral to VSA's training philosophy and help develop well-rounded individuals prepared for life's challenges. Parents can rest assured that their children are becoming better baseball players and better people​​.

Support for college recruitment

Playing collegiate baseball is an excellent opportunity for young athletes to continue their baseball careers while receiving a top-notch education. Vaughn Sports Academy can increase high-school-age baseball players' chances of getting recruited by college coaches and scouts by providing valuable advice and helping showcase their talents and athleticism.

In particular, the baseball academy connects young players with former scouts who have expertise in college recruitment. These connections can provide valuable insights into the recruitment process, helping your child stand out among other aspiring baseball players. VSA can also help create highlight reels and player profiles that showcase your child's abilities and achievements, making them attractive prospects for college teams.

Vaughn Sports Academy stands as a beacon of excellence in youth baseball training. With its top-tier coaching staff, comprehensive and personalized baseball training programs, and focus on character-building, the school offers an unparalleled experience for young athletes. If you are searching for the best baseball academy in Boca Raton, look no further than VSA. For more information about Vaughn Sports Academy and to schedule a visit, please visit their official website.

[mydaddywiki]

Howard Schnellenberger

Physique: Husky Build Height: 6' 1" (185cm)

Howard Leslie Schnellenberger (March 16, 1934 – March 27, 2021; aged 87) was an American football coach with long service at both the professional and college levels. He held head coaching positions with the NFL's Baltimore Colts and in college for the University of Miami, University of Oklahoma, University of Louisville, and Florida Atlantic University. He won a national championship with Miami in 1983. Schnellenberger worked extensively as an assistant coach at the college and professional levels, including as part of the staff of the undefeated 1972 Miami Dolphins.

From his white hair, bushy mustache, blazer-wearing and ever-present pipe made him look more businessman than football coach, he was one sexy man. And with that low voice of his…forget about it. Mmmmmm.

Born in Saint Meinrad, Indiana, Schnellenberger graduated from Flaget High School in Louisville, Kentucky, where he played football, basketball, and baseball and earned a scholarship to the University of Kentucky. Apparently, he was an elite tight end for the Kentucky Wildcats, being named a 1955 All-American.

He was married to his former cheerleader of a wife for over 62 years; they had three sons. I’m projecting here, but I wonder if they’re swingers. Probably not, but if they were, I wouldn’t be surprised. I personally would waste no time in tapping both of them in some serious 3-way action. Again my fruitful imagination is running away again. Schnellenberger died on March 27, 2021, in Boca Raton, Florida, eleven days following his 87th birthday.

Years Active: 1959–2011

Head Coaching Record Overall: 158–151–3 (college), 4–13 (NFL) Bowls: 6–0 Tournaments 2–1 (NCAA D-I-AA playoffs)

Accomplishments and Honors Championships: National (1983), Sun Belt (2007) Awards: Eddie Robinson Coach of the Year Award (1983), Paul "Bear" Bryant Lifetime Achievement Award (2021)

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Earlene Dennis Brown

Earlene Dennis Brown, a three-time Olympian, was the first African American woman to win a medal in the shot put. Throughout her life Brown excelled in a variety of sports, gaining attention, recognition, and honors. She is the only shot-putter to compete in three consecutive Olympics (1956, 1960, 1964). Brown won Olympic bronze for Women’s shot put in 1960; was Amateur Athletic Union Champion in shot put (1956-62, 1964); won Amateur Athletic Union Championship, discus (1958-59, 1961); won gold medal in shot put, silver medal in discus, USA-USSR dual meet (1958); was shot put and discus champion, Pan-American Games (1959); and placed 12th in shot put, Tokyo Olympics (1964).

Earlene Dennis, born July 11, 1935, in Latexo, Texas to Espenola Tillis Dennis, a domestic servant, and Willie Dennis, a semipro baseball player with the Negro League in Texas. When her parents separated in 1938, Dennis remained with her mother and they moved to Los Angeles in 1945. Dennis’s mother married Julius Walker in 1946. Dennis attended Jordan High School in South Central Los Angeles, where she excelled in track and field. Her athletic ability was noticed by many, including Adeline Valdez, Dennis’s high school gym teacher, Josephine Spearman, and Coach Clarence Mackey, who tried to get her to compete in the Helsinki Olympics (in 1952 in Helsinki, Finland). Valdez is credited with putting the first discus in Dennis’ hands while her history teacher taught her to shot put. Before competing in shot put and discus, Dennis anchored the relay team.

In 1956, Brown finished in the top ten in the shot put and the discus. In 1958 Brown received the #1 world ranking and became the first American to break the 50-foot barrier. Brown won gold medals in the shot put as well as discus events at the Pan American Games in 1959. At the Tokyo Olympics in 1964 Brown placed 12th in the shot put.

Brown retired from the shot put competition in 1965. The same year she took up another sport, roller derby. Brown’s career in skating began as a blocker for the New York Bombers.

In 1975, Brown retired from all athletic ventures and worked as a beautician to provide for herself and family. On May 1, 1983, Earlene Dennis Brown passed away in Compton, California at the age of 47. On December 1, 2005, Earlene Brown was posthumously inducted in the National Track and Field Hall of Fame by the USA Track and Field (USATF) Association during the Jesse Owens Awards and the Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony in Jacksonville, Florida.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Logan Sargeant is a silly little guy

@vii-tto idk why but it wouldn't let me tag you. Hopefully you see this. also @spell-of-the-rain i added things if you want to check out 75-87

But here's the list of things i know/want to know about logan sargeant

Favorite Actor is Brad Pitt

Favorite Movie is Wolf of Wall Street

Favorite food is a hamburger

Has a boat and often goes deep sea fishing

Lived in London since he was 15

Lose Yourself by Eminem is his favorite hype up song

Is a Dolphins and Heat fan

Enjoyed “No Man, No Cry” by Jimmy Sax

Drinks iced lattes with oat milk

Pumpkin spice lattes?? Edit 12/16/23: No

Has been to Wimbledon

Knows what cricket is

Has a rescue dog named Coco

Also enjoys hockey Edit 11/1/23: Supports the Florida Panthers NHL team and has gone to at least 1 of their games with his friend Kyle Kirkwood

Does he follow college football?

What does he think of the new Miami head coach? 

If not for motorsport, does he think he would have gone pro in a different sport, and if so which one?

Enjoys listening to 50 Cent (is also a big rap fan in general)

Can he speak any other languages with any degree of familiarity?

Cannot draw

Can make a sandwich (other foods?)

Rates all food from one bite and with weird decimals

Gritty-ed in his f1 car

Makes the Williams photographers look like they take good photos

Does he have an English or a Florida driver’s license? And does he still have US citizenship even though he lives in the UK? What kind of visa is he on?

Top three female athletes? (Serena Williams, Simone Biles, and Megan Rapinoe are all acceptable answers) 

Collects Aussies and Kiwis for friends

Does he like the snow? Prefers the heat but does he like snow?

Does he like Missy Elliot? (Requirement) 

“Basic Halloween Bitch”

Calls people “mate” but in an American accent which will never stop being funny

Eye Crinkles™️

Does not have a set eye color he’s just too mystical for that

Has never been to a concert (presumably too busy with racing)

He can swim, he can drive, but can he ride a bike? Edit 11/15/23: He can indeed ride a bike

American commercial cars or  European ones?

Has an older brother but is like an older brother to Benny’s kid

Likes marshmallows

Does not like black beans

Did not think apple could be chips

Knows how to sail??

Knows how to golf

Can paddle (required for any F1 driver)

Lost the F3 championship in 2020 bc of a DNF in the last race

Can he sing??

Does he drink energy drinks? Red Bull or Monster? 

He and Duracell are passionately making out

Blush is very pretty 

Wears a lot of baseball hats

Somehow beat jet lag (expat king)

Mostly spends his nights in but he has some nights out (presumably very interesting ones)

Has an iPhone with a blue case

He looks very pretty in blue

His eyes are sometimes blue

Blue=fav color?? Edit 11/6/23: favorite color is Ocean blue (credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

Pretty insecure (armchair diagnosed anxiety)

Close with his brother and parents but maybe not his extended family?

Is Florida State his college team?? (Worst thing a man can be is a Florida St fan) Edit 12/16/23: believing that FSU got screwed over this year is acceptable

Did he graduate high school??

Did he ever consider going into NASCAR or did moving to Europe at a young age kind of set in stone his path towards open-wheel racing?

Hair is blond/dirty blond

Does he vote in American elections?? (If he supports RonD I cannot stan)

Burger Sauce™️

Logan Hunter Sargeant, certified Frat Bro, most American man ever

Has seen peaky blinder and presumably stranger things

Knows how to carve a pumpkin but has not celebrated Halloween at home in a bit

Possibly dating some instagram model

Caused $4 million in damages, gets payed $1 million a year, and supposedly brings in $30 million in sponsors

Key phrases: “Locked in”, “Bam/Boom”, “Done and dusted” Additions 11/1/23: "Oh hell yeah", "I think you're a little lost here, Chief". Additions 11/6/23: “Yeh” (gets quieter throughout the word (how it’s one syllable??)), “on the bounce” (credit to @spell-of-the-rain i believe)

Joined the Williams Driver Academy in 2021 

Got stuck in F3 bc he didn’t have the money to move up

Driver for Carlin in 2022

Former teammates include Liam Lawson, Oscar Piastri, Frederick Vesti (Edit 11/6/23: Max Fewtrell possibly?)

DOB: December 31, 2000

5'11

Had a giveaway for gloves he used to win an F4 race on Twitter in 2017 and both Lando Norris and Max Fewtrell replied

Originally his number was 3 but he switched to 2 for F1 (to much fan consternation who thought he had so many better options)

Childhood best friends with Kyle Kirkwood, a current Indycar driver

Logan's older brother Dalton raced in NASCAR until 2018

Did a commercial for Sport23

Does not have cowboy boots as of COTA 2023

Born in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, USA

lived in Switzerland from 14-15(?)

knows the conversion rate for a kilometer

is taller than a tuna fish

Podiumed at the Macau Grand Prix in 2019

Won the CIK-FIA championship when he was 14 Additions as of 11/1/23

Loves waffles but they are not his favorite dessert

Very patriotic (oh hell yeah)

is the first American F1 point scorer in 30 years and the first one to score on home soil since 1989

Went to see the Nets in NYC (but would have preferred to see the Knicks)

has a custom Miami Dolphins jersey with his last name on the back

Claims to know all the lyrics to "Ice Ice Baby" (credit to @formulaaone) (Edited 11/6/23)

Additions as of 11/6/23:

Under the same talent agency as Alex Albon

Has the same manager as George Russell

George Russell was his mentor coming up

Went to a catholic private school (credit to @wenevrknew)

Does not like fish? (Credit to @spell-of-the-rain)

He runs weird (in my opinion as he reminds me of my brother when he was 12 (he ran very strangely))

Karted in Las Vegas when he was a kid

Can he drive a stick shift? (Alex believes he cannot)

Enjoys video games

Refers to his car as “she”

Knew how to attach a visor to his helmet prior to February(? Could’ve been March but before the season) 2023

Additions as of 12/16/23

Broke his arm in a 2014 German Karting Championship when Marcus Armstrong took him out at T1 (credit to @spell-of-the-rain )

Has gotten his head eaten by the Golden Knights mascot

If he could have any superpower, he would like to teleport

Has never flown a drone

Favorite racing movie is Talladega Nights (sad Mater noises)

Does not trust other people to drive him

Would rather sleep in then get up early

Considers himself fairly organized

His mother makes a very good sweet potato casserole

Got his habit of worrying from his mom

“Santa’s Little Helper”

Driving for Williams Racing Formula 1 Team in 2024

Got out qualified by his teammate every race of 2023

[writing-good-vibes]

you know what they say about dead men

ever wondered why corey has daddy issues? look no further. another instalment of the road trip, at last, just in time for the one year ends anniversary !! divider by @/firefly-graphics

WARNINGS for corey cunningham x michael myers relationship, age difference, smut, unsafe kink practices, alcohol consumption, mentions of daddy issues, and mild mentions of unhappy/unstable childhood, implied child abuse and dysfunctional parental relationships.

taglist: @slutforstabbings @ethanhoewke @voxmortuus (if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !!)

Wally Cunningham is dead; mangled in a motorcycle crash in 1999, leaving behind a wife and son. Corey had carried that with him since he was old enough to ask why he didn't have a daddy like the kids at school did.

Joan chose the details carefully, spinning a cautionary tale about how dangerous the world was, how his daddy wasn't smart enough to keep out of trouble, how it's so much better for Corey to stay at home, safe and sound, with her. To stay at home where she can look after him. And Corey believed her, for a while anyway. Why wouldn't he?

In a dirty dive bar in Florida, Corey is finishing his fourth beer of the night before ordering another one. Michael sits stoically beside him, his gaze focused impossibly on the mirror behind the bar from beneath the trucker hat pulled low over his eyes.

Beneath the sound of shouts and jeers and idle chatter, the AC unit rattles steadily, keeping only some of the balmy heat at bay. Corey sweats, curls sticking at his temples and an itch working it's way down his nape, but he he doesn't take his cord jacket off.

"Hey, Wally," someone shouts. It's not an uncommon name, especially for men of a certain age. There's probably a handful of Walters and Wallaces in this bar alone, right?

Still, Corey glances over his shoulder, taking a long swig from his new beer.

The man who shouted had just arrived, and in the time it took Corey to turn around, he's snaked his way through the throngs of patrons to a table in the corner. He claps an older man heartily on the shoulder as he sits down.

Corey's jaw drops, and he dribbles some of his beer down himself.

The older man -- and he does look old, these days -- is startlingly familiar. Corey would know him anywhere, he's seen him a thousand times over in his dreams. He still has a beard, though it has long since greyed. He's wearing a bandana tied over long, equally grey hair. A motorcycle jacket is slung over the back of his seat. Of course he has a motorcycle jacket.

Corey wipes the beer from his chin and tells himself to stop staring, but he can't help it. Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, besides the ones that live in his head, but there's no other explanation for what he's seeing. No explanation that he's got the guts to take.

Because Wally Cunningham is dead. He was mangled in a motorcycle accident in 1999, leaving behind his wife and son. Corey has carried that with him every day of his life. He dealt with the school yard teasing and pushed the grief of every empty father's day deep down. He managed just fine when he learnt to tie his own tie and how to shave on his own. He managed just fine when Momma married Ronald and they all played happy families for a while until the precarious honeymoon phase passed. Corey has managed just fine.

So why is Wally Cunningham sat in a dive bar in Florida, laughing and joking, like he hasn't been dead for more than 20 fucking years.

For a split second, something like elation passes through Corey. That's his dad. His dad who was an All-American man. Who fought in Vietnam. Who would of taught Corey how to ride a trike, and then a bike, and then maybe even a motorcycle when he got old enough. Who would have played catch with him in the yard and coached him to join the baseball team. Who would have made Momma loosen her grip. "You can't keep your eyes on him every second, Joan. Let the boy live," his dad would have said. His dad who had loved him and it was just a terrible, tragic accident that tore them apart.

But then those familiar, safe daydreams fade, like smoke on the breeze. Like they'd never existed at all. His dad is alive, and he hasn't seen Corey in over 20 fucking years.

Without thinking, Corey gets up, leaving Michael sat on his own at the bar. In his haste, desperate not to lose sight of the old man at the table in the corner, Corey forgets to put his beer down, and his knuckles clench white against the glass.

"Wally Cunningham?" his voice is pitifully hopefully. It feels like a betrayal.

Wally turns away from his friends, a congregation of similarly aged-looking bikers with bandanas and bruised knuckles, and looks up at Corey, scowling. "Who's asking, kid?"

Corey swallows thickly around the growing grief in his throat, "I'm Corey."

Wally raises an eyebrow. For a long, disgusting moment Corey can see that his name doesn't ring a bell. The dots aren't connecting.

Until they do. "Corey? God, haven't you grown." Wally looks him up and down, taking in the sight before him. Corey wasn't vain, especially not now, but he has to resist the urge to shrink under his father's narrowed eyes. His hair is a little shaggy since he hasn't got around to trimming it lately, his thrift-store jeans are forever the wrong size, and his tarnished silver belt buckle glints just barely under the smoke-hazy bar lights.

"Well, it's been 23 years." 23 years of mourning only to find that the coffin was empty all along.

Wally nods in muted agreement. "What are you doing here?"

Wally's reserved reaction feels like the single spark that starts a bonfire, drawing in oxygen while Corey struggles to breath. "I should be asking you that. Momma told me you were dead, she said that you died."

Wally has the guts to chuckle, "She did? That doesn't surprise me, she always was fucking nuts. Well, boy, I'm still kicking"

His friends laugh along, but otherwise stay out of it. When Corey thinks about this conversation later -- and he will be thinking about it later, turning it over and over obsessively until he does something stupid over it -- he'll wonder how many of them knew Wally had a son at all. If he ever mentioned the life he'd left behind in Illinois, or if he wiped the slate clean with each state line he crossed. Just like Corey did nowadays.

Corey shakes his head as he connects his own dots, "You're not dead. You're not -- you've been alive this whole time."

Wally tries to be warm, but it doesn't suit him, "Not the brightest bulb in the box, are we? I guess you must take after me, son."

Corey's deep scowl says otherwise; Wally can see Corey is very much Joan's boy. He always was. "You left us, me and Momma."

"Son, your mother told me to leave, so I did. That marriage was a mistake, it's a good job I left her when I did, or I don't know how it would have ended, but it'd wouldn't have been good, I can tell you that --"

"You left me!" Corey shouts, cringing when his voice breaks. "You didn't just walk out on Momma, you walked out on me, didn't you?" His fingers tighten even more around the beer bottle, just a little tighter and --

Suddenly, Corey feels a presence behind him. He knows it's Michael, knows his outrage must of have stirred him from his thoughts and led him over, eager -- if Michael could ever be described as eager -- to be close by in case Corey makes a scene.

Michael clamps a hand down on his shoulder, pulling him away from Wally by a couple of paces. The friends sat around his table shift uneasily in Michael's hulking, scarred presence, a fact Corey revels in as he leans back into Michael's touch. His fingers loosen on the beer bottle.

There's a tense moment of silence as the reality of this strange situation settles over them all. It reminds him of the tabloid shows Momma used to watch when he was little, the ones she shooed him out of the room for: Long lost son, meet absent father.

Finally, "This a friend of yours?" Wally gestures.

Friend. Corey's lip curls into a smirk, "He's my --"

What exactly is Michael? Boyfriend sounds too juvenile, and lover too tender. Daddy crosses his mind, as a sick little dig, or my old man. He doesn't think any of those would go down too well here, though. Partner is ambiguous, but too formal. Accomplice is fitting, very fitting, but he can't go around saying things like that in public. Cult leader is what it feels like sometimes, but a bit too grandiose for their current predicament.

"Yeah, this is Michael," Corey settles on. The pause he used to gather his thoughts was loud though, and something like doubt crosses Wally's face. But he was never fucking there, so he can go fuck himself if he thinks his opinion matters now. He can think what he likes, for all Corey cares -- and oh god, he cares, he cares so fucking much it makes him sick. Wally's probably right though, in one way or another.

"So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods? You left Illinois?" Wally tries again.

Illinois is so far behind them in the rear view mirror that it scares him sometimes, but Corey is headed West, and he isn't stopping -- for anything or anyone -- until he reaches the very end of the line. "We're just passing through," Corey shrugs.

They talk for a while, but Corey doesn't sit down at Wally's table. He doesn't accept a drink when someone goes for another round. He sneers instead of laughs when Wally's friends try to crack jokes. He stays stood in front of Michael, leaning just slightly against him when Michael takes his hand off his shoulder. Michael doesn't complain, doesn't move, just listens silently to the faux-casual conversation going on in front of him. Waiting.

Against his already-scarce better judgement, Corey does agree to stay in town for a few days and meet Wally again tomorrow. They have a lot of catching up to do.

Corey doesn't believe in ghosts, but still doesn't shake Wally's hand when he offers it, scared of what it might feel like. So, instead he smirks, a crooked gesture, and turns to leave, taking Michael with him.

The motel room is quiet and dim, the nicotine-stained bedside lamp casting a sickly yellow glow over the pair while the corners of the room stay shrouded in darkness. A safe and secret place to hide away.

Corey talks and talks, half to himself and half to Michael, wanting to purge every little thought in his head until there's nothing left.

"I don't fucking need him, I never needed him! I never needed him. I don't fucking -- oh fuck -- i got by fine, didn't I? That fucking piece of shit, never fucking needed him. I wish he really was dead, dead in the fucking ground. We should -- that's what we should do, I'm gonna -- please -- And who does he think he is? Talking to me like he didn't fucking walk out on me, on his baby. Can you imagine leaving a baby all alone? Leaving me with Momma. And he didn't even care -- he never fucking cared! -- didn't care that she was gonna swallow me whole. And he knew, he fucking knew, how bad M-Momma was and he s-s-still left me. He ne-ever loved me, did he? Because you wouldn't leave someone like that if you loved them. He never... he never... Why didn't he love me?"

Corey's talk turns into tearful babbles even as he keeps rocking his hips down against Michael's upward thrusts, fucking himself past the point of stupid. Rage and grief gnawing such a deep, deep pit in his stomach that he wants it filled immediately. Wants to fill it with the type of pain-pleasure that Michael delivers without even trying. Wants to choke on it, hot and heavy and ruinous.

But who was Corey kidding? The gaping black hole inside him wasn't new, it hadn’t been gouged out by tonight’s revelations. No, no it had been there for as long as he could remember, and it was Wally who had carved it out, taking it with him when he left and leaving Corey wanting.

"Doesn't matter, anyway. I don't care -- I don't -- I don't fucking need anyone. 'Cause I've got you, right? No one ever gave a shit about me, but I'm still here. I - I don't need them. Don't need anyone. I fucking saved myself. No, no, you saved me. And it's just me and you and we're gonna -- it's gonna be -- You'll never leave me, right? Please don't leave me, please don't -- I wanna be with you. I wanna... You wouldn't leave me. No, no, no, not like him, you're not like him -- you're more of a man than he'll ever be, and you're a fucking monster... Oh, god -- FUCK -- Oh, you can keep me forever and ever and ever and --"

Michael pushes him down onto his back. Corey chokes on a gasp as the angle changes and Michael sets a new, more ruthless pace. Ploughing into him -- too hard and too fast and too much -- as Corey's mouth stops working, his grief-stricken rambles melting into moans.

This happens sometimes, Michael losing patience when Corey runs his mouth, but usually Corey has enough sense to know when shut up. Corey's on the edge and he knows that Michael knows that, knows it when a rough, scarred hand closes around his throat, pressing dangerously on either side of his windpipe.

Corey sucks in a breath until he can't anymore.

The motel room is quiet and dark, once Corey reaches over to shut off the lamp.

He's still sniffling quietly, his sweaty skin sticking to Michael's as he arranges the older man's arms around his shoulders. Michael keeps them there limply, silently, as Corey wraps himself around him.

Abandonment feels so much worse than grief ever had. Wally wasn't dead, he just never wanted Corey. Wally wasn't dead, Corey just wasn't good enough.

Corey's fingers clench. There's a knife on the nightstand, and in his duffle, and one tossed onto the floor along with his clothes. His fingers relax. There's a snub-nose .38 revolver in the glove compartment of their truck.

"He'd deserve it, wouldn't he?" Corey mutters, "Just like she did..." He blinks up at Michael through wet lashes.

Michael doesn't say anything.

He agrees, Corey decides, smiling.

[gadawg-404]

“Navigate the buoys and set it up,” Jimmy Buffett said.

There was a lyrical lift to his voice over the phone decades ago that said he was smiling. Or maybe I just heard that. The singer and actor Bill Murray bought a sliver of the Miami Marlins, then a minor-league baseball team, and the floated idea was to have a young sportswriter sit with them at a game in Key West. Me.

Buffett died Friday night and the obituaries naturally center on the tropical lifestyle of songs that made you want to sail off to the Keys. “Margaritaville”. “A Pirate Looks at Forty”. “Changes in Latitude/Changes in Attitude”.

But Buffett also was a South Florida sports fan in a way that also expressed his fundamental irreverence, passionate search for fun and over the years could leave you snorting in your tropical drink.

His appearances were regular, his glimpses anecdotal. There was a rumor he bought a 5 percent stake in the minor-league Marlins in 1989 when I called his Key West office. His assistant asked how I heard. I didn’t want to tell how.

“Ah, you heard it on the Coconut Telegraph,” said the assistant, Sunshine Smith. Life imitated lyrics.

Buffett came on the phone and explained his interest: “I’ve been a baseball nut for years and thought it would be fun. I like the fact it’s a non-polluting industry with no tall buildings.”

That kind of verbal dexterity was welcome in a sports world often lacking in its fundamental function of fun. The minor-league Marlins didn’t work with the planned split of games Key West and the Mark Light Stadium. But that didn’t matter. He took his swing.

Buffett’s perpetual irreverence was never mistaken for lack of passion, as any Miami Heat fan remembers. He was a Heat season-ticket holder for years who showed up to games in a trademark tan and philosophically flowery shirt. He was a friend of the team. He joined team president Pat Riley in singing, “Heard it through the Grapevine” at a charity event. He partied on New Year’s Eve with Heat owner Micky Arison. He could be seen watching a game with Miami Dolphins quarterback Dan Marino in 2005 or playing the steel drums during a timeout at the 2013 NBA Finals.

Buffett regularly was a real fan, too, as best represented in a 2001 game against the then-hated New York Knicks. Referee Joe Forte stopped the game in the fourth quarter, called security and pointed for them to remove someone.

It was Buffett.

“He was using profanity,” Forte said afterward. “There was a little boy sitting next to him and a lady sitting by him. He used some words he knows he shouldn’t have used so I asked security to move him to another location. We don’t have to take that kind of thing.”

Riley, then the coach, motioned Forte over to him after Buffett walked up the stairs to a higher-level seat.

“Do you know who that is?” Riley asked the referee, who said he didn’t know. Forte still didn’t know when Riley said it was Jimmy Buffett.

“Do you mean to tell me you’ve never been a ‘Parrothead,’ in your life?’’ Riley said, referring to the nickname of Buffett fans. Riley then said of Forte, “He thought I was insulting him and wanted to give me a technical for calling him a Parrothead.’ ”

For years, it was a wonderfully South Florida subplot to sports scene. The Knicks had Spike Lee. Buffett was ours. All ours. Or so we thought until the Marlins — the major-league Marlins by this time — showed up for Game 1 of the National League Championship Series in Chicago in 2003.

There was Buffett in a No. 22 Chicago jersey, the same as Cubs starter Mark Prior. Our Jimmy was theirs. He stretched out of the press box in the seventh inning to sing, “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”

As a South Florida columnist, I couldn’t allow this to happen without questioning him. I waited in the hallway outside the small booth he sang. When he came out, I asked him, “Jimmy, how could you do this to South Florida?”

He laughed, as he should have and said, “I’ve been a Cubs fan for 32 years.”

So, he really was like many South Florida fans. He had allegiances rooted elsewhere. Buffett also said that night he let Marlins have the rights to his minor-league team’s nickname for free.

“As a gift, I gave it to them, let them have it,” he said.

Buffett came to fewer sports events as the years moved on. The last time I saw him was on a Key West stage in January. The idea of going to a minor-league game with him in Key West was long forgotten, just as that team was.

But as the world mourned a musician Saturday, South Florida also lost a sports fan. He was irreverent and tropically tanned but genuinely passionate as any son of a son of a Heat fan should remember.

Author

Dave Hyde | Sports Columnist

Dave Hyde is Sports Columnist for the South Florida Sun Sentinel.

[roosterforme]

Emily! So I live in the Florida panhandle, right, and I just got back from the blue Wahoos game, which is Pensacola, Florida’s. Minor league, baseball team, and the only thing I can think about the entire time is coach, kitten, and Everett, not only is Pensacola a baseball town they’re also a navy town. there’s a Naval air Station Pensacola, so there were a lot of navy men at this baseball game, and whenever they play danger zone, the amount of obvious naval aviators that stood up was hilarious 

Ahhhhhhh!!!!!!! OMG!!!! That is so cool!! Coach, Kitten and Everett would absolutely love going to minor league games together. And I would have screamed when they played Danger Zone 😂

[spnmoosejerk]

Gave Travis a little brother

BASIC INFORMATION:

Full Name: Trenton Chase Morningstar

Nicknames: Trent, Chase

Occupation/Specialty: Trauma resident

Gender/Pronouns: He/Him

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Age: 32

Birthday:

Super (?):

Languages Spoken: English, ASL

Accent: somewhat southern

Cursing: almost always when not in a professional setting.

Hobbies: working out, hiking, fishing, coaching little league baseball

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE & CHARACTERISTICS:

Face Claim (if applicable):

Eye Color: brown

Hair Color: black

Contacts or Glasses?:

Height: 6’0

Build: athletic

Tattoos:

Piercings:

Scars: some scaring on his left arm from some shrapnel

Allergies:

BACKGROUND:

Hometown: Tampa Florida

Siblings: 2 sisters and a brother

Previous/current Relationships: some girlfriends in the past, currently single

PSYCHOLOGY:

Mental conditions: PTSD, Drug abuse

Physical conditions:

Nervous Habits: sweats, avoids eye contact

Pet Peeves: interrupting during a conversation, driving too slow

Talents: very good at lying

Can They Swim?: yes

Can They Drive?: yes

Do They Play an Instrument?

Biggest Achievement:

FAVOURITES:

Food: Italian

Color: red

Animal: dog

[billscheft]

I cannot tell you why, but the other night, I flipped through my 1975 yearbook from Deerfield Academy (The Pocumtuck). Cannot tell you why. Cannot tell you the last time I did it. But the answers come in the silence, and in the silence of a week ago Tuesday night, when the email came from Jamie Kempner that Buddy Teevens had gone to Heaven from complications off a catastrophic cycling accident six months ago.....

Deerfield was and is one of several prep schools that every year admitted a handful of PGs (postgraduates) to do a fifth year of high school and get their grades up to get into a better college. Nearly all of them were outstanding local Mass. high school athletes. And probably two thirds of the two dozen came arrived at Deerfield to play football, and maybe something in the winter and spring.

In the best case scenario, you kicked ass in two sports, got a couple of Bs and wound up at Harvard. I saw it happen a good bit in four years. Kevin Carr from Arlington, who has a wonderful four-year hockey career with the Crimson and captained the team. Bob McDermott from Quincy, who played three years of varsity and won the 1976 Golden Helmet Award as the top New England football player in Division One, then returned to Deerfield as a teacher for one year dying tragically in a fire. Peter Bannish, who was a three-sport star from nearby Westfield and got jerked around by Loyal Park for three years on the Harvard baseball team. (Bannish, who suffered from alcoholism, didn't wake up a few years ago. I tried to help him. Maybe not enough). Senior year, Harvard grabbed the star running back from our undefeated football team, Ralph Pollilio from Stoughton. An absolute comet, he started for three years and got drafted by the Patriots. I think he's the mayor of Stoughton now. Or just runs the town.

Harvard did not get Buddy Teevens from Pembroke, Ma. From the day he set foot on the Deerfield campus (as Jamie said, "He fit in from Day One"), Buddy was signed, sealed and destined for Hanover, New Hampshire. As he should have been. If you love Deerfield and want four more years of the same, Dartmouth is the place to go. But before that, there was the business of kicking some PG ass and leading Deerfield to its first undefeated season in God knows how long.

Buddy Teevens was also a human being first and an athlete second. He was warm and friendly and had a million younger siblings who looked like him that came to every game. He was generous and tough, and didn't always have to lead. It just turned out that way. That is the essence of humility. When the seasons changed, he was an absolute star on the hockey team (which he also played at Dartmouth) and a beyond supportive teammate of a fellow infield-outfielder on our 9-3 baseball team.

He was an absolute stud at Dartmouth. I saw him beat us twice, once senior year on his way to winning Ivy League Player of the Year honors.

It was only natural that he would want a career as a football coach, which he once described to me as "A wonderful profession, but a horrible fucking business...."

He had few stops on the journeyman train, building up his resume as an assistant and head coach at Maine before the Big Green called its favorite son home in 1987. His first stint in Hanover lasted four years before Odyssean ambition and humility in Division One filled his resume. Unsuccessful stints as head coach at Tulane, and Stanford, sandwiched around an assistant gig at Illinois and another under Steve Spurrier in Florida. 18 years before returning to Dartmouth in 2005 because, well, wonderful profession, terrible fucking business.

He burnished his legacy as a coach with five Ivy League titles, but it was as a teacher, innovator and mentor that Buddy Teevens became yet again and forever, a man you aspired too. He hired the first female football coach at Division One. He was instrumental in limiting contract drills in practice through a host of technological and practical changes, advancements that have led to inceased safety at all levels.

We are the same age, and of course, he always looked at least ten years younger, a post-millennial Steve McQueen. The irony that someone so fit, so not done on this Earth, would have to leave because of the most freak of happenstances in the middle of the night on an unlit road.

Not many people because better human beings as they get better know. And no, he was not done on this Earth. But then again, Buddy Teevens was never from this Earth.

[vaughnsportsacademy]

Why Young Baseball Players Should Strive to Become Consistent Hitters

Developing consistent hitting skills is paramount for young baseball players, especially if they aspire to play at the highest levels. It's not just about hitting home runs; it's about making reliable, solid contact every time you step up to the plate. This post explores the importance of consistent hitting and how you can achieve it with the help of the best baseball hitting coaches and baseball training facilities like Vaughn Sports Academy (VSA) in Boca Raton, Florida.

The importance of consistent hitting

Consistency in hitting is vital for several reasons. First, it builds credibility. Baseball coaches and scouts are always looking for players who can perform well game after game. A baseball player who consistently makes good contact with the ball is often more valuable to the team than one who occasionally hits spectacularly but frequently misses.

Second, being a consistent hitter can boost your confidence. When you can perform under pressure, you play with greater poise and assurance. Such mental edge is essential in baseball, where the psychological game is just as critical as the physical one.

Finally, consistent hitting opens up plenty of opportunities. Baseball players who can hit consistently are more likely to catch the eye of scouts and get recruited for higher-level teams, college scholarships, or even professional leagues. Joining youth baseball camps and regularly practicing in hitting cages in Florida can significantly enhance your consistency at the plate.

The role of high-quality coaching

Having access to the best baseball hitting coaches is invaluable to becoming a consistent hitter. These baseball coaches have the experience and knowledge to help you refine your techniques and develop a strong, repeatable swing. They can also provide personalized feedback and adjust their training programs to address specific weaknesses, ensuring your steady improvement.

Finding a baseball academy in Boca Raton or other areas with a reputation for excellence is a great first step. VSA, or one, employs coaches who have played and coached at the highest levels, bringing their wealth of experience directly to you. By working with such coaches, young baseball players learn the fundamentals of a good swing, understand the mechanics involved, and develop the muscle memory needed for consistent performance.

Benefits of training with hitting cages

Practicing in hitting cages in Florida offers numerous benefits for young baseball players looking to improve their hitting consistency. Hitting cages offer a controlled environment where you can focus on your technique without the distractions and pressure of a live baseball game. They allow for repetitive practice, which is key to building muscle memory.

In hitting cages, you can work on various aspects of your swing, from stance to grip to follow-through and timing. Your baseball coach can use these sessions to provide immediate feedback, helping you make adjustments on the spot. Regular practice in hitting cages ensures that you get ample opportunities to perfect your swing and become a more consistent hitter.

The importance of youth baseball camps

Youth baseball camps play a crucial role in developing consistent hitters. These camps provide intensive, focused training over a short period. What's more, they are often led by some of the best baseball hitting coaches. Participants receive personalized attention and are immersed in an environment emphasizing skill development and teamwork.

At Vaughn Sports Academy’s baseball camps, young players can engage in drills that target different aspects of hitting, including hand-eye coordination, bat speed, and power. They also benefit from the camaraderie and healthy competition with their peers, which can be both motivating and educational. The immersive nature of VSA’s youth baseball camps allows players to make significant progress relatively quickly and reinforces the techniques needed for consistent hitting.

Striving to become a consistent hitter is one of the most important goals for young baseball players. It enhances reliability, builds confidence, and opens up opportunities for higher-level play. By working with the best baseball hitting coaches, regularly practicing in hitting cages in Florida, and participating in youth baseball camps, players can develop the skills and mental toughness needed to hit consistently. Get everything young athletes need to become consistent hitters by signing up for Vaughn Sports Academy today.

[burningtacozombie]

undefined

In response to the alarming rise of AIDS in high schools during the late 1980s Florida International University produced a feature-length film as a way to help increase awareness towards the disease. Conditions of Secrecy explores the life of young college baseball player Alex Perez, unable to cope with the diagnosis of AIDS. The 1995 film stars theater student Danny Pino in the role of Alex and fellow student Jennifer Smith as his girlfriend Evelyn. With supervision from medical specialists from the Wellness Center at FIU and with the cooperation of the coach Danny Price and the FIU Baseball team Conditions of Secrecy was sponsored by Blockbuster and featured in all its South Florida stores. The film was written and directed by Phillip M. Church, professor at FIU and distributed to schools and clinics across the country.

X

[tatsports]

Uncovering the Untold Story of Trea Turner ( Part 1)

Are you an avid fan of Major League Baseball? If so, then you should definitely check out the new blog post, “Get to Know the MLB Superstar: Uncovering the Untold Story of Trea Turner.” This blog post will take you on an incredible journey to uncover the untold story of Trea Turner, the amazing shortstop for the Washington Nationals. You will get to learn all about his journey from being an undrafted free agent to becoming one of the top players in the MLB. You will get to know the behind-the-scenes details of his training and the struggles he faced along the way. The blog post also features interviews with his former coaches and current teammates, giving you an inside look at the life of an MLB superstar. This is an amazing opportunity to get to know Trea Turner and his incredible story. Don’t miss out on this amazing opportunity to get to know the MLB superstar and uncover his untold story.

1. Trea Turner’s life before joining MLB

Trea Turner was born on June 30, 1993, in Boynton Beach, Florida, United States

Turner grew up in a sports-oriented family, with both his parents having a background in athletics. His father, Mark Turner, played college baseball at Bowling Green State University, and his mother, Donna Turner, was a standout high school athlete. They introduced Trea to various sports at a young age, including baseball. Trea’s cousin, Preston Claiborne, also played in the Major Leagues as a pitcher.

During his time at Park Vista Community High School in Lake Worth, Florida, Turner was involved in multiple sports. In addition to baseball, he played basketball and was a sprinter on the track team. His speed and athleticism stood out in all of these sports.

Turner excelled in baseball in high school, earning recognition for his exceptional skills and speed. He was named the Florida Class 6A Player of the Year as a senior in 2011 and received All-State honors

After graduating from high school, Turner attended North Carolina State University to play college baseball for the Wolfpack. He continued to impress with his speed and became one of the top prospects in the country.

Learn more about Trea Turner =>  https://tatsports.us/trea-turner/

[dontmeantobepoliticalbut]

Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis once spent a year teaching at a private school in Georgia, where former students said he was a "total jock" who would party with students, according to a New York Times report.

DeSantis, then a 23-year-old graduate from Yale University, used to tell his students that he was bound for the White House when he taught at Darlington School, a prestigious private school in Rome, Georgia, former students told the Times.

"He was a total jock; that was his personality," Gates Minis, a 2003 graduate of the school, told the Times. "He was definitely proud that he graduated Ivy and thought he was very special."

DeSantis taught at Darlington, which enrolled about 750 students from kindergarten to high school, for the 2001-2002 school year, according to the Times. Tuition, room, and board at the school with its 500-acre campus costs about $50,000 today, per the Times.

"He was definitely one of the cooler guys," former student Trip Barnes told the Times. "There were other young teachers who tried to be everybody's friend who didn't have nearly his mystique."

Barnes described DeSantis, who coached baseball and football, as "very smart" and "charismatic," noting that "people liked him" at Darlington. Some other students recalled the Florida Governor differently, telling the Times he had a bit of a superiority complex.

"Mr. DeSantis was kind of a smug guy," former student Matthew Arne told the Times, adding that many students were aware that DeSantis had just graduated from an Ivy League school.

"It was like a, 'I'm kind of better than you,'" Arne told the outlet. "And we were all just kids."

A spokesperson for DeSantis did not respond to Insider's request for comment.

Multiple students told the Times that DeSantis frequented parties with Darlington high school seniors and attended some events with graduates where alcohol was served.

"As an 18-year-old, I remember thinking, 'What are you doing here, dude?'" one former student said, speaking on the condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation, the Times reported.

Former students also recalled an incident in which DeSantis dared a student – who bragged about the quantity of milk he could drink – to chug as much as he could in one sitting. The student complied and proceeded to throw up in front of dozens of other students, according to the Times.

"I think about it, now — I'm a teacher now in public school," Adam Moody, a former student who witnessed the incident, told the Times. "I put myself in that moment, and it's just unthinkable. There's a cruelty to the sense of humor. There's a cruelty to the mentorship."

Some students had positive memories of DeSantis, recalling his coaching on the baseball team.

"He helped a lot of us out there on the field, especially when some of us were distracted by being young adults," 2004 graduate Lee Graddy told the Times. "I know a few of us weren't the greatest; with his guidance we became good baseball players and better people."

[i-am-church-the-cat]

After watching 2024 ISU Montreal, Logan as a figure skater has been on my mind for the longest time.

god...aaaa...im rolling on the floor rn, i can't handle it

the years of my life invested in YOI and figure skating aus is unstoppable, i can't hold it back, i must type-ity-type

Logan's father introduced him and Dalton to ice skating through hockey. Even living in Florida, they had been fans of any and every sport. Football was a favorite, of course, as was basketball, baseball, soccer, lacrosse, sailing, surfing, skiing, and golf. High-contact sports were the most compelling to boys of their age, so when they learned that there was a sport where guys slammed into each other with knives on their feet, they had to check it out.

But starting hockey wasn't what made Logan fall in love with the ice. The first time he'd ever skated had been with his mother on a lake by her childhood home back up in Ohio. He'd been so small, stuck to her side like a barnacle, a mama's boy since the beginning.

The smooth glide of his feet across the clear surface was revelatory. The weight of himself was no longer holding him down, gravity was easier to fight on skates instead of shoes. The thin white lines they left behind them were entrancing. Logan never worried about getting lost because he always knew where he'd been.

Hockey was fun but it wasn't what Logan wanted. The ice wasn't made for chipped teeth and blood-soaked spit. Something that was safety and grace, as dangerous as it was beautiful, deserved more respect than that.

There was a kid on the team between his and Dalton's, Lance. He was cool in a weird sort of way and didn't care that Logan never knew when to speak and when to stay silent. They didn't hang out often and they've fallen out of touch since, but it was his fault that Logan became who he was.

Or, more accurately, his sister's.

Chloe wasn't very graceful but she was an artist and she loved the ice. If Logan got to practice early enough, he could watch the tail end of her figure skating practice. Mr. Stroll always rented out the entire rink for Chloe and her private figure skating coach, only the best for his daughter. So a lot of the times it would be just her, dancing on the ice, her coach, shouting critiques over her chosen music, and Logan, sitting lonely and enraptured in the stands.

It took him almost a month of watching Chloe before he got up the nerve to try out some of the things he had seen. The choreography wasn't that hard, though Logan's rhythm wasn't the greatest at nine years old. But the jumps were hard, and the jumps hurt, and he couldn't figure it out.

But something always made him get back up and keep trying. He couldn't stop once he got something stuck in his mind and the leaps and twists of figure skating jumps were stuck like flies in amber.

The first jump he ever landed was a toe loop. Not that he knew what it was called at the time, and he barely finished a whole rotation, but he stayed standing which was better than he had done in the couple weeks he'd been trying any time he could steal some ice time. When Logan had hit the ice, wobbling but not falling, he'd let out a shocked, delighted laugh. Instead of being sated, his fascination with figure skating just wanted more.

"You're a little old to not be landing singles."

Logan whirled around at the unexpected voice. He'd thought he was totally alone, the rink on the edges of closing. But there was Chloe Stroll's figure skating coach, looking at him with calculating eyes. Logan tried to hold himself up taller, to look more secure than he felt.

"I- I've never tried before," Logan had admitted. He'd felt embarrassed and then felt mad for feeling embarrassed. The coach had looked considering.

"Have you ever tried ballet? You might want to start there."

Logan, even at nine, had recoiled at the idea. It had taken all his courage just to practice figure skating in private, in steps and moments he could steal. But ballet was- his dad would never want him to do that. Dalton would laugh at him, the couple friends he had would think he's weird. He couldn't do ballet.

But he couldn't give up the ice, either. Even when his hockey season ended, Logan was at the rink every day, begging his mom to take him after school. He was older than most kids were when they started and he didn't have a coach or any proper training. If he wanted to do the kind of things Logan wanted to do on the ice, he'd have to push himself further, train his body more, practice for hours on end. A few hours every week wasn't enough.

It was nearing the summer time when Logan worked up all the courage in his little body to ask for ballet lessons. He'd done research, used the family computer to look up ballet teachers in the area, ones that specialized in training athletes for other sports. He had his arguments, his bargaining chips, his promises and dreams all held in the palm of his head.

Logan worked up the courage to ask.

And his father had laughed.

So had Dalton. The only one who didn't laugh was his mother, who saw the heartbreak Logan tried so hard to hide with his fake laughter. Of course, he was only joking. That was the only possibly explanation for why he would say such a thing.

Logan's dreams died that night. He resigned himself to copying jumps he saw on YouTube, stolen moments in the ice rink that felt safer than his own home sometimes.

But the next week, when his mom was taking him to the ice rink, Logan realized they'd made a wrong turn. When he mentioned it to his mom, she'd just shushed him. He'd been left in confusion all the way up to the small, squat building. He'd picked out the words on the sign in front of him like a crow picking out gems from the refuse.

Ayliah's Ballet School

Logan's dad was mad when he found out about the lessons a few months later. In response, Logan had brought all the figure skating magazines he'd been hoarding down from his room and showed them to his parents. The pages he'd bookmarked, the sketches he'd made to try and figure out a skater's pose, the torn-out descriptions of an intricate step sequence. He'd looked up at his dad with big, desperate eyes, willing him to understand the inextricable draw figure skating had at him.

By the time he started fifth grade, Logan had a ballet teacher and figure skating coach. By the end of fifth grade, he had landed his first triple jump.

--

At 19, Logan was the most anxious he could ever remember being. He was also more excited than he thought physically possible.

It was his third year in the senior series, and for the first time, he'd been invited to two ISU grand prix. He had an actual chance at the world championships, something he hadn't had since he won the junior series at 16.

Logan's choreography that year was good, really good. He'd put way more work into his presentation after what an opposing skater had said to him at nationals last year.

"Your jumps might have won you one championship, but everyone can jump in the senior series. Stand out, Logan, or get out."

For Logan, who had never cared much what music he had or what step sequences he did as long as it got him enough points, it was a rough wake up call. He was proud of his jumps, the technical perfection he'd spent years and years honing. He could now land the the quad toe loop, quad salchow, and quad Lutz consistently in competition. But his artistry left something to be desired, and it hurt his program scores in the long run.

He'd changed that this year. He'd worked with his choreographer for months to find the right music, the right transitions, the right spins and steps. Logan had even reached out to a figure skater he'd skated with in the junior leagues who always had the best costumes about his stylist.

The first thing he'd noticed about the ice was that it was a canvas, a glistening field just awaiting someone to paint it in soft white stripes. He'd fallen in love with the danger of it, the allure, but he had neglected the emotional appeal. Madame Ayliah would surely be disappointed if he saw him.

But not this year. Not with a short program as bold as the one he had this year, not with a free skate this spellbinding. Logan had even started drafting ideas for a exhibition state, caught in the draw of expressing his emotions on the ice. He was never good at being vulnerable but this year, the ice demanded it of him. He demanded it of himself.

The US could send three men's figure skaters to the World Championships. Three out of thousands. Logan was going to show why he deserved to be one of them.

One day, Logan would lay on the ice, bleeding and broken, and know its cruel love had run out. But today, it welcomed him home.

[goalhofer]

2023 World Baseball Classic U.S.A. Roster

Pitchers

#0 Adam Ottavino (New York Mets/Brooklyn, New York)

#21 Kyle Freeland (Colorado Rockies/Denver, Colorado)

#29 Kenneth Kelly (Arizona Diamondbacks/Scottsdale, Arizona)

#33 Michael Lynn (Chicago White Sox/Brownsburg, Indiana)

#38 Devin Williams (Milwaukee Brewers/Florissant, Missouri)

#39 Miles Mikolas (St. Louis Cardinals/Jupiter, Florida)

#43 Brooks Raley (New York Mets/Uvalde, Texas)

#47 Jason Adam (Tampa Bay Rays/Overland Park, Kansas)

#49 Kendall Graveman (Chicago White Sox/Alexander City, Alabama)

#50 Adam Wainwright (St. Louis Cardinals/St. Simons, Georgia)

#51 Brady Singer (Kansas City Royals/Tavares, Florida)

#52 Daniel Bard (Colorado Rockies/Greenville, South Carolina)

#53 David Bednar (Pittsburgh Pirates/Mars, Pennsylvania)

#55 Thomas Pressly (Houston Astros/Irving, Texas)

Catchers

#10 J.T. Realmuto (Philadelphia Phillies/Del City, Oklahoma)

#16 Will Smith (Los Angeles Dodgers/Louisville, Kentucky)

#66 Kyle Higashioka (New York Yankees/Huntington Beach, California)

Infielders

#1 Jeff McNeil (New York Mets/San Luis Obispo County, California)

#7 Tim Anderson; Jr. (Chicago White Sox/Tuscaloosa, Alabama)

#8 Trea Turner (Philadelphia Phillies/Lake Worth Beach, Florida)

#15 Bobby Witt; Jr. (Kansas City Royals/Colleyville, Texas)

#20 Pete Alonso; Jr. (New York Mets/Tampa, Florida)

#28 Nolan Arenado (St. Louis Cardinals/Lake Forest, California)

#46 Paul Goldschmidt (St. Louis Cardinals/Wilmington, Delaware)

Outfielders

#3 Markus Betts (Los Angeles Dodgers/Oak Hill, Tennessee)

#12 Kyle Schwarber (Philadelphia Phillies/Middletown, Ohio)

#27 Mike Trout (Los Angeles Angels/Millville, New Jersey)

#30 Kyle Tucker (Houston Astros/Tampa, Florida)

#31 Boyce Mullins II (Baltimore Orioles/Snellville, Georgia)

Coaches

Manager Mark DeRosa (U.S.A. Baseball/Carlstadt, New Jersey)

Bench coach Jerry Manuel (Jessup University Warriors/Rancho Cordova, CA)

Assistant bench coach Brian McCann (U.S.A. Baseball/Duluth, Georgia)

Pitching coach Andy Pettitte (U.S.A. Baseball/Houston, Texas)

Bullpen coach Dave Righetti (San Francisco Giants/San José, California)

Hitting coach George Griffey; Jr. (U.S.A. Baseball/Winter Garden, Florida)

1st base coach Lou Collier (Kansas City Royals/Chicago, Illinois)

3rd base coach Dino Ebel (Los Angeles Dodgers/Barstow, California)

[firsttraintovictoriaville]

I posted 1,089 times in 2022

That's 608 more posts than 2021!

213 posts created (20%)

876 posts reblogged (80%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

epiyersika

@greatinternetllama

@hibiscuslynx

@coderfortourette

@not-the-apple-pie-please

I tagged 1,088 of my posts in 2022

#welcome to the table - 297 posts

#personal - 112 posts

#aesthetic - 93 posts

#fanart - 88 posts

#text - 66 posts

#art - 48 posts

#wttt - 40 posts

#ask - 29 posts

#tumblr - 28 posts

#me - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#if going off the virginia brothers between his husband and his little brother fbi and cia are within his most frequently contacted list on h

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I love how we all agree that West Virginia has little brother energy and that South Carolina has big brother energy but does anyone else think that South Dakota has “We’re twins, it doesn’t matter” energy and North Dakota has “ME!” energy if they are ever asked who is the older twin?

62 notes - Posted July 12, 2022

#4

Random states and their day jobs

I know the states having “day jobs” is tenuous canon at best and most likely being a state pays something (taxes from their people?) or if they had day jobs it would probably be civil servants (although isn’t being a personification of a state, already civil servitude to the nth degree?) but I digress 

Alabama- high school football coach/health teacher combo with history class coverage when needed

California - human resources assistant at a Silicon Valley company 

Colorado- rock climbing instructor 

Florida - Cashapp scammer 

Maryland- real estate agent 

Massachusetts- adjunct professor at MIT Sloan School of Management 

Mississippi - cotton and chicken farmer 

Nevada- Las Vegas croupier 

Texas- cattle rancher 

Utah- DILF 

Washington- Starbucks manager 

Virginia-  Conservationist at a history museum 

69 notes - Posted July 21, 2022

#3

I know when Florida talks about robbing the Federal Reserve he means the Eccles building but it’s 100x funnier if you imagine he’s talking about robbing the Federal Reserve as in the personification for the Federal Reserve. Florida is just out in these streets stealing Federal Reserve’s Teslas and  Arhaus dining chairs 

72 notes - Posted August 25, 2022

#2

strongly held Alaska headcanon

Alaska’s three dogs that we have heard be mention in canon, are Alaskan Malamutes. They’re the state dog of Alaska and have many uses in mushing, carrying objects, and hauling freight. When they reach adulthood they are big and powerful dogs. 

Yet, Alaska’s dogs are puppies. Fido, Balto, and Togo are permanently stuck in the puppy phase due to personification reasons. You have 7 foot tall bearded and built like brickhouse Alaska walking around the wilderness and then followed by him are what can only be described as living marshmallows. 

(image credit: dogtime.com) 

73 notes - Posted October 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

where i think the states fight congregate/have meetings while living in the statehouse

the south: the back porch with sweet tea in front of them and in rocking chairs. the tv is out of sight and on mute so they can fight without the fuel of a college football match

the midwest: in the kitchen so they can be close to the talking ranch unaware of the fact that as they fight each other for the ranch, there is more ranch in the fridge until Wisconsin decides to grab another beer and sees two other bottles there. this commences an even bigger argument

the northeast: the sidewalk in front of the house with all of their car doors still open because they all want the same parking spot. everyone has a cigarette in their hand and their beanies/baseball caps are on the ground

the west: in a circle in the living room so they can look at each other and be able to properly vote in a fair commun(ist)al way. Colorado thought it was a smoke circle and tried to explain puff puff pass and Utah thought it was family game night and brought battleship, catan, AND heads up.

alaska & hawai’i: eating pancakes at a brunch spot while having a light debate on pop culture and all phone numbers of the lower 48 temporarily blocked

district & puerto rico:  Gov purposely gave them the wrong directions so after driving to three abandoned kmarts they decided to hit up a mcdonalds drive thru

maryland & gov: Maryland is watching in the foyer as Gov signs over the rent check to make sure that Gov pays the correct amount

103 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

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