B-leaguered

B-leaguered

“I don’t think I like this.”

“What’s not to like? We’re winning.”

“Nah, not that.”

“I love it. The simplicity. The repetition. The crack of the bat as it makes contact with the ball, and how it vibrates up through my hands and into my arms till my shoulders go slack let it all wash over me.”

“What the hell are you on about?”

“We could ask you the same thing.”

“Even the smell of that Mississippi mud the Umpire rubs into the ball at the beginning of the game. It’s a delight for the senses, when combined with the freshly hewn grass, the crisp starched collars of our uniforms, and the sweat of anticipation.”

“Well that’s something.”

“As I was saying…”

“Yes…”

“…”

“I was waiting to see if you were going to interrupt with more of your pathetic poetry.”

“Nope. You wanted to say something. And poetry or not, I love this game.”

“Well I don’t.”

“You’ve been playing it for what? 200 some years now.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“Even ol T.S. Elliot over here gets tired of playing.”

“But I always come back.”

“You never went far to begin with.”

“Cricket was a nice change of pace.”

“No, I don’t think retirement or taking a break is enough.”


Today’s art is courtesy of Nick Foreman from Sheffield, the United Kingdom.

Docking Procedures

Docking Procedures

Humble Exile

Humble Exile