The lawn was thick, summer-deep. You tossed a ball against the garage door just to hear the echo. The season had a sound: a screen door creaking, a distant mower, the thud of leather. You weren’t at a game, but baseball was in the air. It always was this time of year.
Stoicism
You don’t need a stadium to feel the weight of tradition. You carry it in your routines, your muscle memory, your care.
Daily Takeaway
Respect the rituals that ground you. They don’t need an audience to matter.
Journal Prompt
What sounds signal summer to you?
Where does the rhythm of baseball show up in your daily life?
Honor the Small.
Respect the Moment.
Trust the Path.
The rhythm of baseball shows up every. damn. day.
Thank God for pirate streams. 🦜
Just wrapped up a baseball trip with my dad. One of our stops was Sacramento and the As. Everything about that venue is objectively awful.
Except the As fans.