About a month ago I noticed this guy in the hallways, might be a Junior, with two baseball bats sticking out from either side of his backpack. Ask me and I’d tell you it looks ridiculous, like he’s receiving transmissions from the mother ship.

So, I asked him. He explained that he’s a contact hitter as if that would mean something to me. It didn’t. He could see that I wasn’t following. Okay, maybe I rolled my eyes a bit.

He then talked about how two bats swung together give him more power. And while his manner of speech was calm, measured, his eyes told another story. A story of running out of time. Of chasing a dream. Of secretly fearing he’ll never get there.

That’s why he carries two bats.