I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
When I used to play softball, I had my catchers mitt. I loved it. It was perfect. Fit perfect and it was soft and it was molded for my hand. It had it’s cuts and battered strings and a hole or two. But it was mine and I loved it. I went to sports authority one day and my dad offered to buy me a new mitt. I thought I wanted it. It was new and smelled like leather rather than the field and I thought that that’s what I wanted. I bought it. I tried to break it in. I tried to use it in games. I let so many balls through I practically lost us games. There was one game where I just had enough and put my old catchers mitt on and not a single ball went passed me. It was like the extension of my arm. It fit right and was soft and I love the smell of a softball field. I never used my new glove again. It’s still stiff and someone else used it after that. You’re my winning mitt baby. You’re my extension. You and I fit. We’re molded to one another. You have my favorite scent, favorite feel. We have some bumps and bruises and cuts and tatters, but all of this is going to make us stronger. You’re my biggest win and I’m in love with you
After being on and off with strange bouts of sickness for the past few weeks, Rey had not been looking forward to this scrimmage game. Maybe she’d made a mistake by spending the night at Amy’s because she was dead tired now as she crouched behind the plate, her catcher’s mitt stretched out in front of her. This inning seemed to go on forever. Time seemed to slow down as she blinked a few times while she waited for Amy to pitch. Her girlfriend’s stance was so graceful on the slight pitcher’s mound. Except now she was slightly blurry as she brought her arm down and wound it around. Rey didn’t make it through the rest of the pitch before her vision turned black and she slumped to the ground in a small heap.
the cat has been with the Railroad since switchboard. Drummer Boy found it on rounds, named it “Gingersnap” after the cat his family had when he was a kid, and brought it back to HQ
everyone but Drummer calls it “Asshole” or “The Goddamn Cat”
(the cat is not ginger-colored, it’s grey like virtually every other Wasteland cat)
the cat weighs 22 pounds and hates people.
it LOVES drummer and PAM (because she is warm and lets it sit on her shoulders!!!), tolerates tom, and hates everyone else
it especially hates deacon.
it has peed in three of four pairs of his shoes, shredded dozens of costumes, and eaten at least two wigs
deacon will not approach the cat in anything less than catchers gear and oven mitts because it always attacks him
the cat is apparently indestructible. after switchboard, they couldn’t find it and assumed that it had been caught in the crossfire. Drummer boy was distraught, everyone else was secretly relieved. Two weeks later, it shows up outside their secret door, meowing angrily and demanding to be let in.
The cat is a very talented mouser, and that is the only reason Desdemona tolerates its presence.
(Except she also secretly loves that cat. Once or twice, it’s let her scratch its ears, purring like a Vertibird readying for takeoff)
At Drummer’s request, Tinker Tom built the best goddamn cat tree the Wasteland has even seen. Multiple tiers, heating pads, plenty of perches and hiding spots–it’s absolutely enormous, takes up as much room as PAM’s servers, but it is #worthit
Nobody in the Railroad knows it, but the cat was part of an early Institute experiment with using synthetic animals to gather above-ground data. The synth cats were too hard to control, too unreliable for their purposes. Most were euthanized when the Project Bastet got scuttled in favor of less-intelligent, more-biddable synth birds, but one escaped.
if Glory ever finds out she is going to lose her shit.
From Terajima-sensei’s tweet (2).
“When he was happy so he talked a lot.”
(Birthday party in 3rd year in elementary school)
Miyuki :No one leaves the present and cake on the table, right? I immediately saw them when I came home!! And you know we both don’t like chocolate cake, don’t you!? We couldn’t eat all of it last year!! And I don’t want that glove, I will go to change it later. What I really want is catcher’s mitt!!
His dad : Can I drink a beer now…?
I’m sorry if my posts have a mistake. I typed them via I’m at work so my boss was staring at me while I was typing, haha.
I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be better tomorrow. I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights. I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they’re gone from your life. I’ve learned that making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life.” I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back. I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision. I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one. I’ve learned that every day you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back. I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn. I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.
Nico knew baseball was a bad idea. Yet here he was, on a muggy Saturday morning, trying to play with the guys. He was really irritated. Firstly, because it was so hot and so early and he could be sleeping right now; and because baseball was just so damn confusing. In Italy, football was simple and universal. Everyone knew how to play, even if you weren’t good. But in baseball, there were so many rules, ways to cheat up and steal off the bases, different pitches you could use to throw off the batter.
Nico was pitching now, which seemed to be the only position he was halfway decent at. All he had to focus on was throwing the ball right into Beckendorf’s catcher’s mitt. There weren’t even enough of them for one full team, so they were batting one at a time and rotating positions as they went. Nico took a deep breath as Percy stepped up to bat, trying to ignore the cocky smirk on his face, and those baseball pants… He had gotten over his childish crush on him a long time ago; and even told him, and they were friends now, but still. Distracting.
Nico fiddled with the baseball, lining up the laces. He tried to look for any weaknesses. Percy was left handed, so his hits would pull farther to the right, towards first. He was also two steps closer to first base, because he was left handed he wouldn’t have to step over home plate after his hit. Nico checked in with Beckendorf, who gave him a thumbs up from his spot behind home. Nico took another deep breath, knowing Percy would probably get a good rip over the fence and make him look like a dumbass.
Nico threw two pitches and both were pretty good, as far as he could tell. But Percy just stood there, not even flinching. What is he waiting for? Nico looked over at Frank, who gave him a reassuring nod from his spot as third baseman. He dug his foot in the dirt of the pitchers mound. The second the ball left his hand, time seemed to slow down. Percy swung, throwing out his hands and rolling his wrists. Nico flinched as the ball made contact, a loud crack against the wooden bat.
He closed his eyes out of instinct. When he opened them, the ball was hurtling towards him, a perfect line drive. It was moving too fast for him to dodge to the side. The ball slammed into his chest with a sickening crunch.
In honor of the Washington Nationals opening day here in Washington, DC, here’s one of our most bizarre baseball-related patents.
James E. Bennett patented the “baseball catcher” on March 22, 1904. This contraption replaced the catcher’s mitt with a wire cage on the catcher’s chest.
The “baseball catcher” was a rectangular open-wire frame body reinforced by slotted walls of wood. The impact of the ball on the catcher’s chest is protected by springs on the rear wall of the device.
After the ball has passed through the open front end, it closes automatically. At the bottom of the device is an opening where the ball passes into a pocket where it is retrieved by the catcher. The device also includes a wire mesh on the top to protect the catcher’s face.
Image: Patent for “baseball catcher” by James Bennett. Patent 755,209, records of the Patent and Trademark Office (Record Group 241).
1. A few days ago I noticed someone asked about all the catchers mitts that Lemongrab had in a room. I think it’s because all he really wanted was not to be alone.
By only having catchers mitts he was saying there was only one of him and no one else to throw the ball so that he could catch it. There was no one there to throw the because he was alone and had no one to play with. Luckily this problem was fixed when Princess Bubblegum created Lemongrab