#they are a baseball player - baseball shoes bat and ball

[dragonymango]

find her

[boxblondiecoops]

You should write something about joe cooper and someone on his team! It would be such a cute idea since I saw your recent post lol 😭

- Saphari ★

Hello Saphari!!!

You're my first ask! I hope your doing amazing! Ok, I'm gonna warn you, my writing is chaotic as shit and probably scrambled as hell. I'm gonna start with bullet points and see where my brain takes us. Let's gooooooo~

It's gender neutral and mostly him having a crush but ya know.

　　　　　　　　　✴✶✴✶

Ok. So based off my obsession memory with how he acts around Jenna.............. He turns into a fucking golden retriever.

Same goes for when he's with you.

Like same big blue eyes, same dopey smile. Constantly jumping up to take care of stuff you need/want. He will even tie your shoes for you without you even so much as asking.

Oh, need some water during a sweltering practice? Here's a cold bottle, just for you. It even has your nicknames first initial on the cap with a lil heart with it. Or maybe your player number.

Need a snack because you forgot to eat before a game or something? Oh, lookie, he has your favorite! Actually, he has about eight of em, just in case you need more than one pick me up.

Listen, you guys have to hang out after the games and before the games and all the time.

If you don't wanna come over, he whines and complains to Remer all the time and every. single. time. Remer rolls his eyes so h a r d.

He curls up on the couch, watching his old game and hugging a pillow WISHING desperately it was you.

He's such a lonely guy, please go hold him. He'll gladly be the lil spoon, big spoon, the fucking fork, he doesn't care. He just needs you to hold him.

So naturally you've come over and hung out (more than once) and played some Nintendo and drank some beer if you like too, but he won't push it. He's just happy you're here.

In the house, he has a designated spot on the couch JUST for you. It's right next to his but no one else can sit there.......... Except maybe the dog. MAYBE.

If your allergic or even nervous of his dog, or even the cat for that matter, he'll move them to a seperate room and keep them in there when you hang out.

Although if your allergic he vacuums like the entire house before you come over, even doing the couch.

During games, he's the most supportive dweeb ever. He cheers, like, the loudest in the dug out if your psych out hits the way you practiced. He bounces around and claps.

If it doesn't, he pats you on the shoulder and tells you it was awesome and you guys can tweak it later.

He loves you in the uniform. He won't say it................ But like he stares at you so much. You're so pretty to him he just can't not look at you. He's smitten.

You are the ONLY person on the team allowed to score with La-Z-Boy. He trusts you so, so much with it.

Now imagine you got distracted, waiting your turn on the bench, your name gets called, saying your next up and he gives his prized ball a gentle throw to you and is just like

"Go kill it!" And he's blushing a little bit and almost giggles when you smile and jog off to the pitch.

He knows you won't pop it or fuck with it. It means the world to him and so do you so seeing you use it makes him blush and lean over the railing and just watch you.

Remer definitely fucking laughs at him tho... But also highly encourage him.

"My bestie is soooo in love!" *wipes fake tear*

"Shuddup!"

If you pop a home run with his ball? He's on cloud fucking nine, jumping up and down.

Oh god, if you score the winning game, he rushes at you and picks you up, spinning you around and smiling up at you like you hung the moon and the stars and he just really fucking loves you.

He is constantly waving to you from the pitch if you aren't on the field. Like the straight arm lil wave

Please, can we talk about his eyes? He has the prettiest fucking blue eyes. He looks at you all the time like you personally crafted his favorite constellations or just handed him a signed baseball bat from Reggie Jackson himself.

Like come on. He's so fucking cute, I can't with him. Look!!! Look at him! ↷

The tension.

The tension during practice?

Especially if the team isn't there and it's just the two of you???

STOP SHUT UP

HOLD ON THE CLICHE ASS "lemme stand behind you and, like, move you in the proper way" CLICHE SHIT PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN.

He has game for once!!!!

He stands behind you, hands on your waist, guiding you to stand directly across from the net. He makes sure your holding the ball right (basketballs are hard for me to hold- I have small hands) and even shows you the proper follow through.

And he's fully pressed against your back because I said so and he's so warm and big and everyone talks about how big Remer is but Coop is big too!!!!!

He smiles and gives you pointers on your stance and how to aim and shit- and he's such a sweetheart about it.

Like if you miss he claps and grabs the ball and is like "oh, good try! Let's do it again, but a little bit more like this-" and shows you how to do it and adjusts you to be right.

But he's genuinely so nice about his critiques and is so sweet and is painfully and obliviously so into you and stares at your lips a lot and-

Putmeincoach

Oh my god hold on

Y'all does he have like a "call me coach" thing???

You call him coach as a tease and he smiles and shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips.

.......... Call him that in front of the team and he gets majorly flustered.

I might need to write some suggestive shit on this topic later. This is like all I got for right now. I'm only thinking dirty shit uh-

[randomfoggytiger]

"He Had Parents Who Loved Him"

(Fictober, Day 17)

Today's prompts (curtesy of my younger sister~) are: pitch, hash browns, and nightmare.

Wherein I attempt to humanize Bill Mulder; who, I believe, was a decent father before Samantha's abduction.

*****

“Fox, did you ever play baseball with hash browns?”

If there was an award for having the dumbest little sister in all of the United States, Fox Mulder figured he would have won it by now. Maybe it just takes a while to get through the postage. 

The Mulder family was entrenched in various claimed places on the couch, eyes glued to the screen as the Red Sox progressively lost their newest game. Fox sat scrunched between his father and his sister, half-listening to his mother’s house slippers glide to and from the kitchen in her ever-increasing search for tasks that kept her away from the tv set. “I’ll never understand your father’s fathomless loyalty,” she'd said once, shaking her head as she mopped up her son’s latest spill, “He seems to like watching other people lose….” The implied too was left off; but it itched away at Fox's brain for years.  

“Fooooooooooooooooox--”

“Stop yelling over the game, Samantha,” their dad cut in, admonishing her over the top of his son’s head. When she continued to mumble and started to wriggle, he sighed and nudged Fox. “Move over, son. I’ve got a problem to solve.” 

Both kids were delighted: Samantha launched at her father while chanting “Solve me! Solve me!”, and Fox giddily slid over, delightedly hogging the whole end seat to himself. 

Mom's slippers glided in. “Solve what, dear?” she asked, distributing the latest round of drinks and calling her son’s attention to the straw in his glass. Message received: no more spills on the living room rug. 

“Daddy’s going to solve me!” 

Fox felt his mother’s hand, which had been wiping the ketchup off his cheek, flinch. But by the time he looked up nervously, she was smiling reproachfully at the others, more amused than anxious. He must have imagined it. 

“You two,” she chuckled, dodging her husband’s inviting hand as she passed, yet again, out of the room.  

“You have to solve me, Daddy!” Samantha chanted, thrilled with this new game. 

“Sam, we’re watching baseball, not talking about hash browns,” Fox snapped, annoyed that she was monopolizing everything. Again.

Their father was always gone-- on the road, on a plane, or just plain gone-- and Samantha knew this-- wanted to be a fairy for Halloween so she could use her magic wand to wish he'd stay forever and ever and ever-- and yet she was wasting important, precious time with her useless questions.

“Fox, settle down. We’ll keep it quiet.”

Which wasn’t the point. 

“No one plays baseball with hash browns, sweetheart, because it would be too messy. You know how carefully Fox and I clean our gloves? Our shoes? Our gear?” At each question, Samantha nodded furiously. “Well, if someone tossed a hash brown to home base at ninety miles an hour--”

“Nine-tee miles?” she whispered, amazed.

Fox snorted.  Of course ninety miles.

“Yes, ninety miles an hour-- then there’d be cooked potato everywhere: on the bat, on everyone’s shoes, on all the gear, and likely all over the stadium. And if Fox were playing, your mom would be in one of those stadium seats with us--”

“And she hates getting dirty, right, Daddy?” 

"That's right. And we wouldn't want her mad on your brother's big day, now would we?"

Beaming uncontrollably with the faith his father placed in him, Fox burst from his seat, practically yelling in his excitement. "I'll be the best ball player they've seen in fifty years, Dad! And everyone will be yelling 'MULDER! MULDER!'-- and all the loser pitchers and slow pokes will watch me run right by them, feeling like they're caught in a nightmare because they can't catch--"

"Fox!” His mother's slippers glided in for the sixth time that afternoon; and she surveyed, with appalled dignity, her son stomping enthusiastically, mid-narration, on the forgotten couch pillows dumped unceremoniously on the floor. “Just what is going on here?” 

“The Sox are losing, Teena,” Dad said, waving them both back to the couch. “Fox’s just giving 'em tips."

"Well, he can give them tips without making a ruckus about it. Now Fox, come sit back down and finish the game."

He didn't bother to remind everyone that all his adoring fans would be screaming Mulder-- not Fox-- while he hit home run after home run.

Yet.

But he really wanted to.

The rest of the game passed without much comment; but, as Fox soaked in the warmth of a Mulder family moment, he decided that-- maybe-- Samantha's silly little question hadn't been such a big deal, after all.

*****

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober2023 and @fictober-event

[emeraldzephyr]

Glory Days: A Baseball AU Fic

Part 1 of my Baseball Player Steve Harrington Fic!

Eddie Munson was at the last place he thought he would ever be on a Wednesday afternoon. 

After arriving in Chicago for the next stop on Corroded Coffin's Raising the Dead tour, their manager, Nancy Wheeler, presented them with suite tickets to the Chicago Cubs game.

"One of the player's brothers is a huge fan" She said as she passed over the envelope, "It would mean a lot to go, and it's good press."

"Nancy," Eddie started, and the rest of the band sighed, preparing for his rant, "We are not sports sorts. In fact, it was those same types that made our lives such hell in school. And yes, that was 10 years ago but I have a very good memory, and even a few scars to remember it by!" 

"Look, it's 3 hours tops, there will be food and drinks in the suite, and if you get pics at the game I bet you sell out the rest of those tickets before the show on Saturday. Chicago loves the Cubs, and Steve Harrington is their golden boy."

Eddie looked to his band members, eyes darting between the three of them.

Gareth shrugged "Might as well, maybe it could be fun."

Eddie frowned, and glared down at Jeff, "Weirdly enough, I kind of like baseball."

Eddie gasped, murmuring traitor under his breath.

Finally, he leveled his gaze to Frank, who gulped before sputtering out, "I mean, free food and drinks is nice." 

" Ugh… .fine!" Eddie snaps, throwing his hands up and flopping down on the couch in the hotel suite," but don't expect me to be happy about it."

Which brings us to the present, where Eddie sits in the cushy Legends suite at Wrigley Field. At least the day was nice, the sky a bright blue with fluffy clouds, a chill breeze just enough to cool the warm rays of the sun.

A bat cracked, and Eddie flinched. He knew there was netting keeping the balls from getting to them but that didn't stop his anxiety from expecting every single one of those fuckers to come flying at his face like some kind of jock powered magic missile. 

“I would say you get used to it, but you really don’t.”

Eddie turned to see a woman with short brown hair and blue eyes seated two seats over. Her long legs were propped up on the seat in front of her, and she wore a white and blue striped jersey with HARRINGTON across the back.

“I mean, I’ve been going to Steve’s games since college and I still flinch every time.” She said, chuckling to herself, “I’m Robin, by the way.”

“Ah, so you must be Harrington’s lucky girl!” Eddie exclaims, sweeping his hands open in a dramatic bow, “Eddie Munson, pleasure to meet you.”

“Eww, no.” Robin clips, “Steve is my very platonic best friend. And roommate, but I am but a humble graduate student and he makes fuck you amounts of money.”

Eddie barks out a laugh at that as the loudspeaker in the stadium crackles to life.

“Batting Number 4, Your Shortstop Steve Harrington!!”

The crowd roars to life, Robin cheering enthusiastically next to him, and Eddie’s jaw drops open as he hears a familiar drum and guitar riff before his own voice shouts through the stadium “I don’t need your crown!!”, the fans echoing his words as the guitar and drums kick into a fast and heavy riff. When Jeff explained the concept of walkout music to him earlier in the game he never expected to hear one of their own songs blasted through the stadium.

“Holy shit!” Gareth shouted, shaking Eddie by the shoulders “Harrington has our song as his walkout music!”

Eddie looks up to the jumbotron screens to see a close up of Harrington as he steps up to the batter's box, a beaming smile on his face as he taps the end of the bat on each shoe before bringing the bat up and squatting slightly to get in batting position, his eyes focused like a laser on the pitcher. 

The first pitch flies in just below the strike zone, the second in the dirt. 

“Ooo, they’re scared of him.” a curly haired man says, plopping into the empty seat between Eddie and Robin.

“Scared of him?” Eddie questions, tilting his head at the new arrival.

He turns towards Eddie and a look of recognition crosses his face, “Holy shit, you’re Eddie Munson! Steve said he was giving you and the band tickets but I didn’t think you’d actually come! I’m Dustin, his little brother!”

Dustin grabs Eddie’s hand, shaking it enthusiastically as Steve fouls off the third pitch.

“They’re scared of him because he’s a damn good player,” Robin fills in, sitting up just enough to make eye contact with Eddie over Dustin’s head.

“Yeah, they don’t want to give him anything he can get ahold of,” Dustin muses as the crack of the bat against the ball rings out through the stadium.

The ball rockets up the middle, cutting between the second base and shortstop and rolling through center field. Steve takes off at a sprint, rounding first base and making it comfortably to second before the ball flies in from the outfield.

“Hell yeah Steve!!” Dustin shouts, with Robin whistling.

* * * * *

Eddie spends the majority of the game talking to Dustin and Robin about a variety of topics. Eddie learns that Dustin is working at a tech company that does…something with radio waves. Honestly Eddie was lost on that one after about three words. He also learns Robin is studying linguistics at the University of Chicago. Eddie talks to them both about his music, their tour, and a few early ideas for songs. 

The group always stops when Steve comes up to bat. It’s endearing how much the pair cares about Steve, contrasting with how little they care about the rest of the game. It honestly surprises Eddie how good of a time he is having. 

Steve’s next two at bats are a sacrifice fly, putting the Cubs on the board but still behind. His second at bat ends in a double play, giving Eddie precious little time to admire the man as he ran the bases. And Eddie was a weak, weak man, and those baseball pants hugged just right. He should honestly know better than to crush on the straight jock, but looking was fine, right?

It was the bottom of the ninth and the Cubs trailed 4-1 when Steve came to bat, bases loaded. After Steve’s walkout music cut off you could hear a pin drop in the stadium. Pitch one was a fastball, rocketing in right down the center of the strike zone. Steve stood completely still, taking the strike. The next, a breaking ball down and left, outside the strike zone. One and one count.

“Holy shit this is stressful,” Eddie said through clenched teeth, twisting the rings on his fingers nervously.

“No kidding,” Robin mumbles, her knee bouncing anxiously as Steve stepped back into the batter’s box.

Pitch three was a fastball that floated just outside of the strike zone, pitch four a curve ball fouled off into the first base stands. The count was even, and it felt as if the stadium itself was holding its breath. 

Pitch five was where the pitcher made a grave error. It flew straight down the center of the strike zone, but Steve was ready for it this time. The ball cracked off the bat, soaring towards right field. The stadium erupted, growing louder and louder the further the ball flew, until it landed in the right field bleachers.

“HOLY SHIT THAT WAS A WALK OFF GRAND SLAM!!” Dustin screamed, as all of them jumped to their feet, shouting and cheering as Steve and his teammates all rounded the bases. 

The entire stadium was whipped into a frenzy, the team included. Steve rounded third base and beamed as his entire team waited for him at home plate, where they instantly swarmed him, multiple coolers of gatorade dunked on his head as the team celebrated. 

Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys couldn’t help but be swept up in the kinetic atmosphere of the stadium, jumping and cheering. His eyes locked with Gareth’s when the entire stadium began to sing.

“Go Cubs Go! Go Cubs Go! Hey, Chicago, what do you say, The Cubs are gonna win today!”

“They have their own theme song?” Gareth exclaimed, “We gotta do a cover.”

“Wouldn’t be the first!” Jeff shouted over the crowd, slinging an arm around Gareth’s shoulders, “Pantera wrote a song for the Dallas hockey team that they play when goals are scored.”

The crowd continued singing as they all filtered out of the stadium, while the suite that Eddie and the others were in continued their libations. After a few minutes, the door swung open and a chorus of “Steve!” rang out from the box.

Eddie may as well have looked right at the sun with as bright as Harrington was beaming as both Dustin and Robin threw their arms around his shoulders, both speaking lightning fast at him in their excitement. His eyes darted between the two of them, trying to keep up with the separate streams of conversations, when his eyes finally settled between the two of them on Eddie, Gareth, Jeff, and Frank.

“You must be Corroded Coffin!” He greeted, slipping between Robin and Dustin and walking over to shake hands, “I’m really glad you could make it, Dusty and I are both big fans.”

“Gotta say,” Eddie started as he shook Steve’s hand, “I didn’t expect a pretty boy jock like yourself to be a metal fan.”

Steve flushed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, well Dustin was the one who got me into it in all honesty. That plus a smidge of teenage rebellion was the right combination I guess. Plus, it makes great workout music.”

A woman’s head popped into the door as the group chatted, “Steve, we have a presser in 5.”

“Guess that’s my cue,” he said, thumbing over his shoulder at the door, “If you don’t have plans after the game, we are doing a barbecue at my place.”

The Corroded Coffin boys all looked between each other, Jeff nodding enthusiastically. Frank shrugged, and Gareth smiled mischievously at Eddie. He didn’t like that look one bit.

“I guess we can swing by,” Eddie said, eyebrows knitted together in confusion at Gareth’s expression, then turning to smile at Steve.

“Great!” Steve beamed, clapping Eddie on the shoulder, “Robin can give you the details.”

Steve walked up to Nancy just before leaving, giving her a hug and lifting her slightly off her toes.

“It was good to see you Nance Pants,” he grinned, “See you at the barbecue!”

"Nance Pants?" The band choruses in unison.

"We are NOT talking about it."

[godlizzza]

prompt: teen danbert, herbert attending one of dan's baseball games, maybe celebrating a win for his team

It was a hard game to balance for Dan. On one hand, he was poised and ready, the solid wood of the bat gripped in his hands. He squinted against the glaring sun streaming directly into his eyes at the shape of the pitcher, equally poised, before him. Dan kept his eyes trained on the ball gripped in the Fansville player's hand, knowing that if he lost focus even for a second the guy would pelt a fast ball right by his ear.

However, Dan was finding it hard to focus because, on the other hand, he knew Herbert was in the crowd.

For a while Dan had been casually dropping it into conversation that he was sure Herbert would enjoy Baseball if he ever actually sat down and watched a game. He said how all the other guys' girlfriends had been lukewarm to the sport too, but still found the will to sit in the bleachers and cheer. He tried to keep his tone nonchalant as he said it, but keenly watched for Herbert's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"Sounds tedious," was all Herbert had said around a mouthful of celery as he read his book.

The words deflated Dan and by the sharp look Herbert turned on him it must've shown.

"It's really not," Dan mumbled, crossing his arms and feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Herbert snapped his book shut and narrowed his eyes at Dan. "You're doing that thing again."

Dan sat up straighter, mind racing. "What thing?"

"That thing where you want me to do something without just coming out and telling me," Herbert huffed. "It's really annoying. Some might even say vexing."

"Vexing," Dan echoed, trying in vain to fight back a smile. He couldn't help that Herbert's particular brand of talking always had him grinning. "Well, we can't have you getting vexed."

Herbert pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow. "We're halfway there, so why don't you just tell me what you want?"

"Fine," Dan said with a sigh. "I want you to come to one of my games."

Herbert blinked, looking genuinely perplexed. "Why?"

"Because," Dan said with an incredulous laugh, "I want you to watch me. It'd just be nice, knowing you're there. Having an audience always makes you try harder at something."

"You'll already have an audience," Herbert reasoned. "Aren't there always crowds at those games?"

Dan rolled his eyes and shuffled over until their knees touched. He reached for Herbert's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Yeah, but I'm saying I want you there, not just random people from school and their families. I wanna be able to look over to the crowd and see you."

"As if you don't see me enough," Herbert grumbled. He glanced away but his cheeks were dusted with pink.

Dan grinned and threw an arm around Herbert. He drew him close until their cheeks were squished together, and Herbert was weakly pushing at him but Dan didn't budge.

"I could never see enough of you," Dan said in a simpering voice, then pressed a long, loud kiss to Herbert's cheek.

So, Herbert had come, and it was taking everything for Dan to concentrate on the pitcher in front of him. The pitcher reared his arm back and Dan gripped the bat tighter, digging his feet into the dirt. The ball came hard at Dan, soaring straight for the mitt behind him. Dan's arms tensed and then he was swinging, connecting with the ball with a crack like a clap of thunder. The ball soared across the pitch, Fansville players racing to catch it as Dan ran.

He pelted from the home plate, his heels kicking up clouds of dirt as he flew past first base. He could hear the roar of the crowd over the blood pounding in his ears, the cheers surging him on, making him pump his legs faster. He rounded second base, keeping his ears open for the voices of his teammates and the opposition. The ball was out on the grass somewhere, making its way from the glove of an opponent, back to home, and Dan had to beat it.

The toe of his shoe hit third base and he briefly pondered if he should go for it and try for a home run, but he hesitated. He knew his hit had been good, but he wasn't sure if it had been that good. But still, he was tempted. Tempted to put on a show and do something dazzling while Herbert was watching. It might have been childish, but he wanted to impress him.

It was the thought of Herbert however, that made him stop and stay at third base. If he didn't make it, Herbert would roll his eyes and make some comment about Dan being over-eager or something. A moment later, the ball flew past him, and would've definitely hit the home plate before him, had he chosen to keep running. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked to the crowd.

Herbert stared back at him, shoulders bunched up around his ears as he sat, squished between two people cheering loudly. Herbert squirmed in his seat, aiming a dirty look at either side of him at the two jostling figures, but then he was staring back at Dan. He held his hand up, lifting the foam finger Dan had given him and bouncing it slightly. Dan laughed at this display of 'enthusiasm', but grinned happily anyway.

He wanted desperately to jog over to the bleachers, lean over the rail, and kiss Herbert the same way all the other guys kissed their girlfriends at the end of the game. But he couldn't exactly do that, so instead he settled on blowing him a kiss. Herbert rolled his eyes but held up his free hand and mimed catching it.

Dan couldn't wait to see him after the game, even if they couldn't kiss over the fence.

[hyuge]

While the Cameras are Rolling

For the @bnhavictorieszine.

You can also read on AO3 here.

“Have you ever seen those funny MLB compilation videos?”

“What videos?”

“Those ones with the players goofing off during the game? They’re so hilarious.”

“No?”

“Here, watch.”

Keys click as a playlist of compilation videos are pulled up. The first one in the list is selected and it starts with an ad. When the ad ends, the video begins with the announcers laughing. The camera pans to the pitcher’s mound as Bakugou Katsuki, pitcher for the Yuuei Heroes, steps to the mound. He digs the front of his shoe into the dirt, lips curling into a snarl, as he focuses his gaze on the batter at home plate. Bakugou spits, clicking his tongue. “Here it comes,” the announcer laughs, as the camera zooms in closer, focusing on Bakugou and his pinched brows and taut posture.

“Get ready to die from my pitch you bastard!” he shouts as he throws the ball.

“We can never have a game without him threatening the batters,” the announcer jokes.

The video changes to home base where Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu from the Musutafu Bees is preparing to swing. The catcher, Kirishima Eijirou, says something to Tetsutetsu making him laugh, distracting him from the play. The umpire Toyomitsu chastises them both and they bow apologetically to him.

“Sorry, Fat!” Kirishima says, referring to umpire Toyomitsu by his nickname.

He knocks them both on the head as a reminder to pay attention. The crowd laughs. The pair of them return to their proper positions at home base, Kirishima punching the inside of his catcher’s mitt, and Tetsutetsu twisting his hands on the grip of the bat.

The video changes again. The team is on timeout. Coach Yagi is standing on the pitcher’s mound speaking fervently to Bakugou and Kirishima, along with first baseman Sero Hanta. Bakugou’s arms are flailing as he argues with the coach, but the camera pans away from them, focusing on third baseman Todoroki Shouto.

“Todoroki! Todoroki!” A fan calls out to him, waving and pointing to a sign they are holding. Todoroki wets his lips, glances at his teammates, then jogs over to the fan that is standing just behind the wall. They hold their phone out to take a picture, he makes a peace sign and leans in closer, then the fan grabs him by the shirt collar and places a kiss on his cheek. Todoroki freezes, face flushing, as the kiss is on full display on the jumbotron.

He waves sheepishly at the crowd, then jogs back to his position on the diamond, pulling the brim of his cap down low so that no one can make eye contact.

“Next up to bat is number eleven: Kaminari Denki. He’s had a bit of a slow start to the season, but everyone’s anticipating a quick turnaround. With teammate Iida Tenya on second base, do you think he’ll be able to hit him home?”

“We’ll have to see.”

The announcers go back and forth as Kaminari prepares to swing. Pitcher Monoma Neito from the Bees throws the first ball, Kaminari swings, and it’s a strike. Kaminari shimmies in place, preparing for the second pitch. Monoma throws it, and as Kaminari swings, the ball catches his arm. It’s a walk! Dramatically, Kaminari drops the bat, flips his hand so that its back is resting against his forehead, and pretends to faint at home plate, collapsing to the ground.

Everyone laughs. Toyomitsu shakes his head, hands resting at his hips. Kaminari scrambles to his feet, covered in dirt, and jogs to first base.

The video cuts to the dugout. Outfielders Satou Rikido and Shouji Mezou are holding opposite ends of a baseball bat while pinch hitter Ojirou Mashirao does the limbo underneath it.

“Apparently,” the announcer starts, “the team has a ritual to boost their spirits where they like to play games in the dugout for bonding. It looks like today’s game is limbo. I remember one time they were playing hopscotch. Watching a bunch of grown men play hopscotch like grade-schoolers is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Boy, I wish I could have seen that!” The other announcer says laughing. “Oh! It looks like Ojirou failed to go low.”

Ojirou’s chest hits the bat, knocking it free of Satou and Shouji’s grip. It clangs loudly against the concrete flooring of the dugout and the other members of the team tease him.

Back on the field, both team mascots are running slow, awkward laps around the diamond—their oversized costumes swaying side to side.

“Well, would you look at that,” the announcer says as the camera pans back to the dugout again. Sero is swaying, trying to balance a baseball bat on his nose. “I’ve seen basketball players spin balls on their fingers, but never a baseball player with a bat on his nose!” The announcer laughs. “Sero Hanta looks more like a seal doing that. Look at him go! He’s really keeping it up there. Who would have thought he was that poised.”

“Incredible,” the other announcer agrees.

Sero has his arms stretched out on either side of him and his back arched, eyes fixated on the bat balancing precariously atop his nose. The other players in the dugout are pumping their firsts and cheering, hollering for him to continue. When the bat’s teetering finally goes too far to the left, Sero quickly snatches it before it can fall and hit him in the face. The others cheer and boo at the same time, both proud of how long he went, and also disappointed to see it end. He smiles wide at them, giving his teammates a thumbs up.

The video cuts back to the field again and Kaminari is back up to bat. He swings, hitting the ball with a loud smack, and takes off running. The outfielders chase after it and left fielder Tsuburaba Kosei catches the ball just as it’s about to go over the wall, securing the fly ball. Kaminari comes to a stuttering stop just past second base and he leans into baseman Awase Yosetsu’s personal space, tugging his shirt out of the front of his pants, smiling, before jogging back to home plate.

At home plate again, Tetsutetsu is readying to swing. Bakugou throws the ball, he connects with it, but it bounces backward. The ball hits the top of Kirishima’s glove as he tries to catch it, then knocks into umpire Toyomitsu’s stomach. It falls to the ground, rolling away. Tetsutetsu drops his bat, turns to face Toyomitsu and pats him on the stomach, then gives him a hug. He’s okay! Toyomitsu tries to suppress a laugh, but his face cracks, lips parting into a wide grin.

⚾⚾⚾⚾

The video ends and another begins to play automatically. The Heroes are against the Shiketsu Cyclones and the mascots are out on the field. While the mascot for the Heroes looks like any ordinary person in a superhero costume, the Cyclones have a large tornado-shaped costume. Each mascot has a remote control in their hand and they’re pointing at small RC cars down the field.

“It’s time for the annual RC car race between the mascots from the Yuuei Heroes and the Shiketsu Cyclones!” the announcer cheers. “That tornado isn’t giving up as he directs his car towards home plate, but, oh wait—it looks like one of the cars just took out Shiketsu short stop Yoarashi Inasa. He’s clutching at his ankle! That’s gotta hurt.”

Yoarashi hops up and down on one foot, cradling his injured ankle between his hands. One of his teammates comes over to check on him and he waves them off. “Looks like he’s gonna be okay,” the announcer verifies. The cars keep moving, hurrying toward home plate, and the video changes before anyone gets to see who won.

The Heroes are up against the Bees again and Kirishima is up to bat. He does a couple of practice swings and waves to Todoroki on second base. Todoroki waves back, readying himself to run. Kirishima cracks his neck, locks eyes on Monoma, points his finger at the pitcher, and makes some halfhearted threat about how he’s going to destroy him (Bakugou’s influence must have rubbed off on the catcher). Monoma steps forward, and throws. The ball curves, but Kirishima is on it. There’s a resounding smack as it makes contact with the bat and it flies high, sailing over the back wall with ease. Music plays to celebrate his homerun and he remains at home plate, dancing with the bat in hand.

As Kirishima shakes and shimmies, Todoroki makes his way around third base and finally home. They high-five, then the redhead finally starts doing his lap. He doesn’t run it, though. He continues to dance, moonwalking and doing the lawn mower around the entire diamond. The Bees shake their heads, impatiently waiting for him to complete his victory lap as the Heroes holler and cheer from the dugout. He nods at Shouji who is waiting for his turn at bat; Shouji nods back in approval.

He finally makes it to home plate and Toyomitsu yells at him to hurry up and get off the field. Kirishima rubs at the back of his neck, laughing and apologizing for taking so long. Toyomitsu shakes his head, and bumps him on the shoulder with his fist.

The Bees are back up to bat and Awase prepares to swing. He hits the ball, but it veers right, popping a foul into first base territory. Sero runs after it, jumping up against the wall to catch the ball mid-air. He falls backwards, only to be caught by a few fans in the first row. He thanks them, offering the ball as a gratitude. The coach, Yagi, yells at him to get back on the field and he laughs sheepishly.

“You can’t have him back!” one of the fans shouts. The others chime in, playing along with the joke. “Yeah! We caught this player. He went over the foul line. He’s ours now!”

Sero smiles a wide, toothy grin, stretching his arms out around his fans. “You heard’ em!” he shouts back to his coach. “I guess I’m stuck here now.” He waves at one of the concession workers making their way up and down the staircase. “Hey! Over here! A round of beers for the row please.”

The concession worker nods and the fans cheer. He brings over his tray of beers, handing them to each of the guests in the first row. Coach Yagi shouts again and Sero smiles apologetically at the fans. “Sorry folks, looks like you don’t get to keep me after all. Maybe after the game…” He winks. One of the ladies in the row swoons, almost spilling her new drink as he jumps back down onto the ground, kicking up dirt around him. Coach Yagi marches over to first base reprimanding Sero for his hijinks.

Bakugou is at the pitcher’s mound, barely keeping his composure. His arms are wrapped around his sides as he laughs violently in place. The other team members are also snorting and giggling and Sero’s face is plastered on the jumbotron as he just shrugs, looking very unapologetic.

The video ends and the browser is closed before another one can begin to play. Sports always seemed sort of dumb and uptight, but after watching the players have so much fun during their games and with the audience, it becomes a refreshing change of perspective. When it comes down to it, athletes really are just like everyone else. They like to mess around and have a good time. They play pranks on one another and spend time with their fans. It’s a pleasant realization that leaves a smile on one’s face.

“I didn’t know all that stuff happens during games.”

“Kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah. Maybe we should go to a game some time. It’d be fun to see if any of that happens in person.”

“Yeah! I’d like that.”

The computer is closed, and the two people watching have a resounding new desire to take an interest in sports, even if it’s not for the actual sporting part of the game. Regardless, the Heroes have a new fan headed their way.

[ratsoh-writes]

What are all the boys weapons? (I know we've had a few reveals... but I can't remember who it was).

Ooo let’s do this one!

So a little background: every monster has their own magical weapon. The first form of magic all monsters learn are pellets (think the little balls flowey uses to attack the player at the beginning of the game). As the kids grow older, they’re taught to shape and change these pellets to their own design. In order to be considered in control of their magic, each monster must be able to create their own weapon and summon it at will. So every monster has at least one special weapon by the time they’re in their teens (not that they use it much).

I’ll reveal all the guys go to weapons here

Sans/Oak: he made his weapon back in the day when he was into school and wasn’t a lazy slob. It’s a full on laser canon modeled after his gaster blasters. Sans only brings that baby out to scare people since it can’t stack damage like his blasters can

Papyrus/Willow: it’s a giant catapult made of bones!! Papyrus wanted that engineering extra credit! 

Star/Lilac: it’s a shooting star that he can increase the size on to either ride or use as a ninja star. He’s very good with it

Honey/Basil: he’s not the most powerful so he didn’t make anything big or flashy. It’s a spoon ladle, with spikes lol

Red/Rust: spiked baseball bat. He’s a simple guy

Edge/Noir: the first thing he created and learned to summon at will was a rapier of course. Edge got into fencing real young.

Mal: his is technically a switchblade, but he’s made changes over the years. Nowadays mals blade will cover over his fingertips to make much longer and sharper claws

Cash: his magic weapon is very basic looking, a rope, but it’s damage is ingenious. It has tiny pinpoint needles on the rope that slowly sap HP from the target. Low damage on first strike, so low it’s easy to miss that the damage is increasing every turn, whether he’s hitting you or not.

Charm: his is a whistle that’s designed more to stun than actually hurt. It does cause some damage though so charm never uses it except in emergencies

Sugar: he can’t bear the thought of hurting anyone, so his “weapon” is a shield. A very pretty lacy looking shield, but it does it’s job.

Lord: his weapon is an extremely large hammer. The sucker is practically the same size as him. It takes a lot of energy to make, but the damage it causes is worth it.

Mutt: he copied his brother and also went the hammer route, but his is more hatchet sized, and mutt makes two of them. One for each hand.

Wine: a beautiful terrifyingly sharp looking reapers scythe. The weapon is a piece of art, and wine wields it like a master. If you see it, you’re already dead

Coffee: he makes a large snipers gun. It takes a massive amount of energy for him to make, but that’s because it’s designed to take out an enemy in one shot. Coffee needs to make sure that shot is worth it

Pop: it’s a soccer ball!! But it moves like a bouncing rubber ball. And pop is pretty good with his aim when he kicks

Rhythm: his weapon is his shoes. You only see a thin orange sheet surround his shoes, but when he swings his legs, waves of magic pour out like the waves of the ocean. However it’s more show than damage and doesn’t do much. It does have good push back though

Pluto: the best offense is a good defense! Plutos is a light looking suit of armor. He can take a few hits in that, long enough to get away hopefully. Pluto was never a fighter

Jupiter: it’s a heavy looking great sword, and the thing can really pack a punch. Jupiter has his family tree inscribed on it which gave him a nice chunk of extra credit in high school

G: he has two magic weapons, a backpack with two arms acting as tentacles, and a single claw on his right hand. The tentacles are just a distraction meant to keep his enemy busy, all the damage is in the claw

Green: his is a fancy looking pistol. The “bullets” spread out in a small wave blast wherever they land

Peaches: his is a familiar looking shotgun. If you ever saw ranchers room, you’d realize peaches magic weapon looks exactly like the shotgun above ranchers bed, minus the color of course

Rancher: his is also a giant hammer, the damage is pretty minuscule, but his strength behind the swing makes all the difference. Nobody expects the skeleton monster to have the strength of a golem. Ranchers case is not common

Snipe: surprising no one, his weapons are twin pistols, one for each hand. They do have an automatic function though so the sheer amounts of bullets he can rain down is pretty impressive

Bruiser: his is also a spiked baseball bat. Bruiser isn’t fancy and likes something he can use in almost any situation

Butch: his weapon is a large wicked looking battle axe. The blade alone reaches his shoulder when it’s resting on the ground. Butch rarely uses it

Boss: he uses a beautiful long sword one handedly. It’s a bit on the thin side and works as both a rapier and a normal sword.

Ace: twin switchblades, one for each hand naturally. Ace is very good at throwing them too

Slim: his is a small frisbee looking thing. He throws it, and it sends out a shockwave designed to freeze anyone near. It’s a weapon for escape, not killing

Sparks: he throws out firecrackers! They’re more show than damage, but because they’re small, they’re very easy to re-make so sparks can chuck loads of them at the same time

Salt: his is a chainsaw lol. He was inspired by a horror film he found in the dumps.

Lush: some wicket spiked gloves naturally. They’re meant more to cause pain than kill. Lush wants his opponent throughly punished before he finally ends them

Pepper: he has a rather dainty looking whip. Don’t let it fool you, the end of it has small holes where needles can appear. He uses it both in battle and for fun ;) (no needles during fun time of course)

And for gears and compass, they actually don’t have magic weapons as they can’t produce magic pellets, but they do have a favorite tool they use. It should be in their descriptions somewhere in masterlist 17

[michaelcosio]

Picking a New Profession for Every Boring NBA Commentator

JESSE DORSEY

JUNE 12, 2012

The NBA, and basketball in general for that matter, is an incredibly fast-paced, yet methodical game that it's hard to really find a commentator that's worth much in terms of not over-doing it and not being so boring that it's hard to concentrate on anything but the squeaks of the shoes on the court.

The latter, unfortunately for the following people, is definitely worse than the former. At least with an over-excited commentator there are laughs to be had.

A boring commentator is just that, a guy (or girl) droning on-and-on about this and that with no regard to whether anybody cares about what he's saying.

That's why I've decided to take a look at the worst, most boring commentators and analysts around the NBA and reassign their lives.

We need to make sure that everyone is doing the job that's right for them, so it's time to give everyone who is in the wrong job their correct job.

Magic Johnson: Outlandish Baseball Owner

In case you've not heard due to having lived in a barn over the past few months, Magic Johnson has recently purchased, as a part of a group, the Los Angeles Dodgers.

What Magic Johnson needs to do before the people completely turn on his utterly dull, uninspired and completely useless role with the ESPN crew that bores the bejeezus out of us all season long is turn into the next Bill Veeck.

For those of you who don't know who Bill Veeck is, he's one of the most iconic figures in baseball history, pulling some of the best stunts imaginable to improve the way the fans watch the game.

Among other things, Veeck hired 3'7" Eddie Gaedel to play for his St. Louis Browns. The little man was only allowed one at-bat before the MLB outlawed his use, the man having a strike zone so small that it seemed impossible to pitch to him.

Veeck went on to put together all kinds of promotions, giving away free balls, free pickles, free hot dogs, free lobsters, free ice cream, free pigs, chickens, eels and ducks.

Magic needs to turn himself into one of the most visible, entertaining baseball owners in all of the MLB.

Jon Barry: Basketball Camp with His Brothers

Jon Barry should be thankful that Magic Johnson sits next to him to be more boring than he is, but he's still an uninteresting, dull member of ESPN's NBA Countdown.

What Jon Barry needs to do is collect all of his basketball-playing family members, all of whom got a fraction of the talent that their father had, put them all in the same location and open up the Barry Brothers Basketball Camp.

Once the camp starts to take off, they can start putting together basketball training videos and cheesy commercials to go along with the videos, something that would benefit more people than forcing them to see Barry go on and on about nothing every time ESPN hosts a basketball game.

Shaquille O'Neal: Reality Show

Shaq is in the wrong situation for people to enjoy him on television. When Shaq is funny, it's spontaneous, unscripted and, above all, awkward. However, with him a part of Inside the NBA, he's got very few of those moments.

What we need is to get Shaq a reality show, either one where he just lives his day-to-day life as a giant doctor-policeman former basketball player, or one where they send him here and there to do this and that.

Giving Shaq a reality show not only gets the big mumbling, uninteresting man off our beloved Inside the NBA, it also puts him in a situation where he'll potentially thrive and have people reevaluate their opinions of him as a television personality.

Doris Burke: Craig Sager's Outfit Wrangler

Doris Burke is a maddeningly uninteresting commentator when she's on the microphone. In fact, the only time when she's remotely bearable is when she's the sideline reporter at games, which sucks because even the best sideline reporter is a useless part of a live sports broadcast.

So, in order to keep her somewhat involved in basketball, I'm making her the personal assistant to Craig Sager, who is a noticeably better (yet still useless) sideline reporter.

Her only job with Sager is going to be to keep notes on his outfits, make sure he doesn't wear the same color combinations too close to each other and, overall, make sure each outfit is more outlandish than the last.

Dave Pasch: Stick to His Day Job…Announcing Football

This photo is a worst nightmare of sorts. What we've got here is Dave Pasch, a boring, sometimes used play-by-play man for the NBA on ESPN working alongside Jon Barry, a color commentator with nothing to add and no insight to give.

Dave Pasch has been an interesting decision at times for the NBA game. What makes him a good football announcer, the somber tone, the drawn-out pauses to let the game take over rather than his words, is also what makes him a terrible basketball announcer. There's a certain rhythm that comes with commentating basketball that he just doesn't have.

So, all Pasch really needs to do is stick to his job commentating for the Arizona Cardinals and then doing college and Arena Football, the NFL and the Little League World Series, places where his pace is more fitting.

Matt Devlin: Branch Manager of a Paper Company

I hate to discredit Matt Devlin, because he seems like one of the nicest guys a person could ever encounter, but Devlin is awful as an NBA commentator.

If you're not the over-excited, constantly wound-up type then it's best to be somber and let the game flow through your lips and to the viewer. Don't try to do too much, but don't try to leave too much silence.

Devlin's problem is that he is too slow and methodical for the majority of the game, but then he tries to work himself up for the excitement in the final minutes of a game, leading to situations like this, when he had no idea that the game was over.

Aside from that, Devlin seems to have awkward in infinite supply. Devlin's well-meaning awkwardness always seem to throw off a Michael Scott vibe, making me think that he'd be a perfect manager for a company in paper sales.

[sports854-blog]

The Perfect Pair: Baseball Bucket And Balls for the Ultimate Baseball Experience

Baseball Bucket And Balls

A baseball bucket and balls are more than just accessories; they are fundamental tools for every baseball player and coach. The bucket serves as a versatile storage solution, keeping your baseballs organized and easily transportable. It's not just about convenience; it's about efficiency on the field. A well-organized bucket ensures that practice sessions and games run smoothly, as you can quickly access the balls you need without fumbling through a bag or juggling loose balls.

But not all baseball buckets are created equal. Look for ones with padded lids, which can double as comfortable seats during long games or practice sessions. Many feature additional compartments to store essentials like water bottles, batting gloves, and more. The portability and convenience they offer make them a must-have for any serious baseball player.

Equally important are the baseballs themselves. The quality and condition of the baseballs you use can significantly impact your performance. Opt for genuine leather baseballs for game use, which provide a consistent feel and performance. Practice balls should be durable and affordable, as they'll take a beating during training. Keep a mix of both in your baseball bucket for a well-rounded practice or game experience.

Running Shoes

In baseball, running is an integral part of the game. Whether you're sprinting to steal a base, chasing down a fly ball in the outfield, or rounding the bases for a home run, you need the right footwear. Baseball-specific running shoes are designed to provide the support, traction, and durability necessary for the sport.

When selecting running shoes for baseball, prioritize comfort and fit. Look for cushioning in the midsole to absorb shock and reduce the risk of injury. A supportive, snug fit is vital to prevent blisters and ensure stability during quick movements. Cleats with metal or molded spikes are preferred for superior traction on the field.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Rounders (1998)

Even if you’ve never played a hand of Poker, Rounders will infect you with a love for the game. By the end, you might not know the rules but you will know the psychology that differentiates the winners from the rest. It’s a sports movie that might actually inspire you to have a go at it.

In New York City, law student Mike McDermott (Matt Damon) loses his entire savings to Russian mobster Teddy KGB (John Malkovich). Following the disastrous game, he promises his girlfriend Jo (Fretchen Mol) he’ll quit. Months later, Mike’s childhood friend Lester “Worm” Murphy (Edward Norton) is released from prison. The unapologetic cheat immeditely sets out to make up for lost time - and win the money he owes - by becoming a full-blown rounder once again. One taste and Mike falls off the wagon.

To understand what professionals like about Poker, you need to understand certain things about the game. Your first lesson comes from Worm. He could win fair and square but he’s too impatient. He wants things done fast and you get the sense that deep down, he sees Poker as a different game than everyone else. For him, the objective is to win money as quickly as possible. He likes to punish those who have the audacity to sit down at his table. He knows the game too well for the luck of the draw to make Poker a gamble but he wants the thrill of uncertainty, which is why he cheats. He might even enjoy getting caught. After all, if he pays back his debt to Grama (Michael Rispoli), he won’t need to come up with $15,000 in record time. He’s poison that’s threatening to take down Mike.

From this irresponsible antagonist, we learn that Poker isn’t a gamble, a game you win quickly, or a way to make money. Yes, you can make a living off of the tables - that’s exactly what Mike’s mentor, Joey Knish (John Turturro) does - but even he isn’t quite a “true” player. Joey always plays it safe and always quits while he’s ahead. He would never even dream of playing at the World Series of Poker because it would be a distraction, a title to flaunt instead of a way to ensure he provides for his family. The true player is somewhere in between. Honest and dependent on skill rather than luck but willing to risk it all when the time comes. Rounders is about a lot of other things but at its core, it’s about this journey Mike takes towards realizing what kind of player he will be.

With a big debt that could mean the death of both Mike and Worm, you’ve got high stakes. The strain Mike’s old habits put on his relationship with Jo supplies the drama. KGB provides the ultimate antagonist to defeat in the final round. You’ve got all the ingredients of a great sports film and then, the film takes it one step further. The most accessible of all movie sports - baseball, soccer, and basketball - require only basic equipment. A half court, shoes, and a ball. Shoes, a goal, and a ball. Four bases, a bat, a ball, and gloves. The same applies to Poker. You literally only need a standard deck of cards. You also need a certain amount of skills - it’s the reason they could never make a Snakes and Ladders movie. Becoming a great Poker player is achievable by just about anyone. As Mike describes the way people hold themselves when playing cards, you feel your ability to tell the bluffs from the baits grow. Now you’re seeing the game in a whole new way. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know whether a straight flush beats a full house; what matters is that now you can tell by the players’ faces who’s going to win.

Rounders is a memorable movie that tells you a lot about Poker without ever explaining all the rules and strategies. You’ll be so invested in what’s going on you won’t even notice its familiar structure until the film’s over. Thanks to its great cast, this is one you’ll come back to. (Full-screen version on VHS, May 25, 2021)

[thegloves]

What’s a glove to you ? I mean what it should be to a ball player & what it actually is is 2 different things today. More players softball / baseball seem to care more about their bats then what they do about their gloves. Your glove is used about 80% more then your bat throughout a game or even practice. If it’s used that much don’t you think that you should invest in that ? And not just use whatever u can find! Your glove has to be an extension of your hand , you have to be comfortable with the glove! Just like a pair of your favorite jeans or shoes , that’s what a glove should be ! So comfortable that you don’t even know you are wearing it

[nate-dallas]

i expected more. [drabble]

Write a scene starring your character in high school. Use the prompt “I expected more.”

February 2007–

“I swear to god, if you don’t catch the damn ball next time, I’m going to ram that bat so far up your–”

“Tyler!” Coach Rimes’s voice boomed from the dugout, cutting off the young male.

It was almost baseball season, and as usual, the Wilson High School Tigers Varsity Baseball team were practicing. School was over nearly three hours ago and the boys haven’t left campus since. The baseball field was littered with the players taking their positions and practicing their skills.

Tyler Kelton, the team captain and a junior, was in a mood. He’s been in a mood all day and it’s spilled into practice. The other boys were on edge. They were so afraid of Tyler’s current vibe. In an attempt to not make him angrier, they were overthinking and not playing well. It showed when the catcher, another junior named Gavin Michaels, fumbled the ball during a simple, regular play.

Tyler was on the pitcher’s mound, practicing his throws. His eyes were shooting daggers at poor Gavin, who avoided Tyler’s gaze at all cost. Gavin grabbed the ball and threw it back to Tyler but it was such a poor throw that the ball landed at Tyler’s feet.

“Okay, that’s enough practice. Go home, get some rest. We’re back out here tomorrow and if you guys don’t bring it, we’re running laps.” Coach Rimes removed his baseball cap to fan his hair back before placing the hat back on his head. He gathered up some equipment, his clipboard, and his whistle, before disappearing into the Coaches Office.

The boys collected their own stuff and made their way to the locker room. Tyler was the first one in and he slammed the door open so loudly, it banged against the wall. The rest of the team filed in afterwards, knowing what was coming. The look on their faces was a mixture of annoyance, whether at Tyler or how they played remains unclear, but the atmosphere in the room was highly negative.

“What the hell was that?!” Tyler nearly shouted as the boys sat on the benches, some undoing their shoes or taking off their baseball caps.

“Dude, watch it.” Nate spoke up, staring hard at his best friend. They were classmates throughout middle school, but became closer in high school. Nate, like Tyler, was in his junior year.

“You,” Tyler immediately turned and pointed to Nate, “you barely caught that curveball earlier. Don’t sit there and tell me to watch it when you couldn’t even watch the ball yourself.”

Nate pulled off his baseball cap and grabbed his bag out of his locker. He stuffed the hat inside. Some of the other players followed suit, obviously desperate to get out of there.

“If we play that way against McKinley or Roosevelt, we’re going to lose. We might as well be the laughingstock in the league. Do you want that?” Tyler warned, his eyes scanning each young man as most of them refused to look at him.

“Obviously we don’t, but come off it man,” Nate said, exhaling a defeated sigh as he finished packing up his bat, glove, and extra baseballs. He zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder while staring at Tyler, who turned right back to look at him. “Fix your attitude before practice tomorrow. Don’t stress the team out any further than they already are.”

Some of the players started slipping out of the locker room after they packed up. Tyler was too enraged to even notice. If he did, he didn’t seem to care. He balled up a fist at his side, and Nate carefully watched his best friend, hoping he didn’t decide to just punch one of their players.

Nate knew the team looked rough today. Hell, he didn’t play a great practice either, but he had other things on his mind that he couldn’t shake. He finally got his next door neighbor to agree to see a game and it made him nervous. She never saw him play before and he was anxious about it. During their game against McKinley High, she was going to be in the stands with his parents. He might be a little thrilled about it but he was determined to not let it show.

But of course, Tyler didn’t know that. If Tyler knew Nate was thrown off his game by a girl, he would never hear the end of it.

“If we end up running laps tomorrow, I will personally kill every single teammate with great pleasure,” Tyler gritted his teeth. The words were aimed at Nate, but his eyes were looking at the remaining members of the team scattered throughout the locker room.

Nate suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. While he knew Tyler was joking, some definitely would not look at it that way, and he didn’t want to do anything that would further impact the climate with the leftover team around them.

“Ty, enough. We had a bad practice. It happens,” Nate reasoned, making his way toward the exit along with a few of the other players.

“That is why you weren’t voted captain,” Tyler spat in Nate’s direction, “because I expected more.”

Nate inhaled sharply, shifting his bag to his other shoulder. He didn’t care about being captain, like Tyler did. He didn’t campaign for it, like Tyler did. He didn’t threaten people for votes, like Tyler did. Yet Tyler seemed to rub it in Nate’s face whenever he got the chance.

“Alright Ty,” Nate said, wanting the argument to be over. “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t want one. Nate shoved the locker room door open and walked out. The door swung to a close behind him and the awful practice drifted from his mind.

[sports854-blog]

Essential Gear for Sports Enthusiasts: Exploring the Versatility of Baseball Buckets and Soccer Socks

Sports enthusiasts understand the significance of having the right gear for optimal performance. While many focus on the high-tech equipment like bats, gloves, or shoes, there are two often overlooked items that deserve attention: baseball buckets and soccer socks. Let's explore how these seemingly simple objects play a crucial role in their respective sports.

Baseball Buckets:

A baseball bucket may seem like a humble accessory, but it serves multiple purposes that are invaluable to players and coaches alike. One of the primary functions of a baseball bucket is to store and carry baseballs during practice or games. With a durable design and ample capacity, these buckets ensure easy transportation and organization of balls, allowing players to focus on their training.

Moreover, baseball buckets often come with a padded lid that doubles as a seat. During breaks or in-between innings, players can comfortably rest on the lid, preventing fatigue and maintaining focus. Coaches also benefit from the convenience of these buckets as they can use them to store other equipment like batting helmets, gloves, or small accessories, keeping everything within reach during practices or games.

Soccer Socks:

When it comes to soccer, the right pair of socks is more than just a fashion statement. Soccer socks are designed to provide athletes with optimal foot protection, support, and comfort during intense matches. These socks are typically made from moisture-wicking materials that keep the feet dry and prevent blisters, even during prolonged periods of physical activity.

One important feature of soccer socks is their length, which often extends above the shin guards. This extra coverage not only secures the shin guards in place but also offers additional protection against tackles and impacts. Additionally, soccer socks are designed with reinforced cushioning in specific areas such as the heel, toe, and sole, which helps absorb shocks and reduce the risk of foot injuries.

Another advantage of soccer socks is their compression properties. Compression socks promote better blood circulation, which can enhance performance and aid in recovery by reducing muscle fatigue and soreness. With improved oxygen flow, athletes can push their limits and maintain their energy levels throughout the game.

Conclusion:

Baseball buckets and soccer socks may not receive as much attention as high-end equipment, but they are essential components of an athlete's arsenal. Baseball buckets offer practicality and convenience, allowing for easy transportation of equipment and providing a comfortable seat during breaks. On the other hand, soccer socks ensure foot protection, support, and performance enhancement on the field. By recognizing the versatility and importance of these seemingly simple items, sports enthusiasts can elevate their game and maximize their potential. So, next time you hit the field or the diamond, don't forget the significance of a reliable baseball bucket and a well-fitted pair of soccer socks.