Sport: The Brat

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The batter, narrow-eyed and tightlipped, leaned in toward the plate, and crouched to make a smaller target of his stocky little frame. He wriggled, fidgeted with his cap, hitched up his belt, got his feet dug in, began waggling his bat. Just as the pitcher started his windup, he let down the bat, stepped out of the box and elaborately wiped an imaginary speck out of his eye. The pitcher waited, ball clutched in his throwing hand. With a swagger, the batter walked over to the rosin bag, picked it up, dusted...

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