As I have written before, my parents can be sadistic morons. They throw treats at me and then remark about how I consistently fail to catch them. What they don’t understand is a catcher is only as good as the pitcher. How can I be expected to catch some weird pop-up fly ball that goes up two feet before coming down? Even Carlton Fisk would have a problem keeping their stuff in play.
My sister understands that I can catch a good fast ball. Here’s the proof:
Alright, so I missed one. Nonetheless, watch and learn, Pierzynski.
I love you!