When Mike Trout steals a base we just imagine a creased up cape being dragged through space and time right behind. When his even keeled bat rips through the zone launching baseballs like golf balls laser beams sure appear to boil from his eyes eviscerating it in mid-air. There’s also leaping outfield walls in a single bound, we unconsciously transport back to Angels in the Outfield as if sprawling white wings lift him up with grace to the perfect glove trajectory. Most of us are just left to visualize a blend of our Marvel mind snippets with his well-paced super sly game.
The Mike Trout Conundrum
