These grown men trying mightily to place a baseball into such cramped
pockets of hittable-ness is a thing to behold. They pitch to their own
kids, their own teams, so they most certainly want the kids to
swing and make contact. And many do, over and over again. Charlie was
hitting really well, honestly, until the last few games. Then something
slid away from him and a slump got born. No one knows why these things
occur, especially when the batter is 7 and slightly distracted by the
slightest shadow of a bird. Ladies and Gents, please meet the
daydreaming slugger with pancake syrup from breakfast still painted in
the corners of his mouth.
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