Birth in the Time of Covid: A Tale of bat and ball

I remember the specific moment in 5th grade when my little league baseball career abruptly and thankfully ended. I was standing in the outfield on the grass at Brewbaker Field Sports Complex in my hometown of Lexington, Virginia, feeling nervous about being there. Baseball was not a sport I particularly enjoyed, and I’m not sure why I even joined the Rockbridge Area Recreation Organization (RARO) little league baseball team. Perhaps it was the peer pressure or the opportunity for camaraderie with others my age. Maybe it was part of the requirement of growing up in small town America. Regardless of the reason, I wasn’t particularly good at baseball, and I didn’t have much of a desire to improve. It just seemed like once you reach a certain age as a child in the US the options for organised extracurricular activities need to include competitive sports. But…baseball…why does the ball have to be so goddamned hard? Why does it have to move so dangerously fast? From my perspective as an innocent youth, it seemed like a bullet disguised as an object of play trying to hunt me down. It’s a good thing hockey wasn’t an option. <a href="https://jeffreyschwab-30696.medium.com/birth-in-the-time-of-covid-a-tale-of-bat-and-ball-76bb6b066ad2">Visit Now</a>