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Your pitch is so wild that it hits the batter’s wife who is in the stands behind you.
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You’re in the outfield, a ball is hit to you and you shriek, swat it down and hold it under your shoe until someone can come by with a newspaper to kill it.
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Your slides are headfirst, poorly executed and often into the pitcher’s mound.
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You get into an argument with one of the umpires over what Jean Paul Sartre meant when he used the term “anima”.
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At bat, you often get on base but since you don’t run the bases in the same order as everyone else, they nearly always tag you out.
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You run like a geisha. Pitchers will often walk you just to see you run to first base because it is the DAMNDEST thing anyone has ever seen.
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Your slider looks like your fastball which looks like your curve ball which looks like your knuckle ball and all of them make it across the plate on the second or third bounce.
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The team retires your number because they suspect it is cursed.
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A fly ball has been hit between yourself and the center fielder. The center fielder calls out, “I’ve got it!” and you call out, “You’ve been kind of cold and distant lately is there something wrong?”
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They send you to the minor leagues where your skills atrophy and you slowly fade into obscurity; or worse, they trade you to a Canadian team…
Potatoes and the Promise of More Potatoes 
I don’t know nothing about baseball Charles ☹️
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I know, NP… Many of my readers will be at sea on these. But, it’s what came out of me…
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I tend to sweat and fart myself 🥳
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Speaking as the Platonic ideal of masculinity, I have to say that I do neither. I have to say that, but that doesn’t mean it’s true…
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You’re not cut out to play professional baseball if your name is Lucy, but you can still play for Charles Schulz no matter what Charlie Brown thinks.
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As I recall, if Charlie Brown pitches, the game will be rained out…
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Were you at that game when I was in the outfield and ran away from the ball, screaming like a lunatic? Because that sounds like me. In real life, I never want to play catch, so when a kid throws a ball at me I just let it bounce off. If I were to catch the ball then I would be engaging in the game I do not wish to play. Comical? Maybe. Painful? A little bit. But I am standing my own ground!
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You aren’t alone, Robyn. Bob Uecker once said, “The way to catch a knuckleball is to wait until it stops rolling and then pick it up”…
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I didn’t understand some of those terms, but then again if I wrote something similar about cricket I guess you’d be equally mystified…
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I played cricket in middle school and I would STILL be mystified at the terms involved… or the scoring…
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Maybe I’ll write a cricket story…
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Maybe I’ll read it.
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I miss knuckleballers. We had one of the best in Tim Wakefield…
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The most entertaining pitchers ever. I’ve seem some guys get too old to fling the fast ball so, some of them develop a knuckleball and get another five or six years pitching.
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I don’t believe there are any in the major leagues now… and that’s a shame.
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For years I thought Phil Niekro’s first name was Knuckleballer.
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Knuckleballers are their own breed…
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