Baseball had not been Hope Lawlar’s sport, but it had become her son’s, and a parent’s duty is to encourage such interests. So there in that backyard, night after night, she set balls on a tee and played catch and fed her son grounders. She corrected his swing and his mechanics, guided less by any formal expertise than by a mental image of what looked right. Some nights, after working a full shift managing a boutique in nearby Dallas, she’d come home exhausted. But then she’d see her son’s big, pleading eyes and hear that irrefusable request — “Will you throw the ball to me?
Snake Bytes 2/28: Brandon Pfaadt Doo-Doo Doo-Doo Doo-Doo
