Baseball Kaleidoscope
Baseball, and life, can sometimes devolve into a spiral of sounds and colors. Drunken sailors on this choppy sea, we try to find one thing to hang on to before it slips away again and leaves us bewildered. In and out and up and down and yet we try to come back to that one, stable anchor in our vision. Your own hand at the bar. That woman’s foot. The gleaming brass doorknob. That white pillow. But it’s folly — you’ll eventually end up rolled up in a ball in the bathroom, screwed up and hurting, recounting the moments that led you down this path. How did this happen?
With a phone full of pictures of pitchers' fingers, strange beers, and his two toddler sons, Eno Sarris can be found at the ballpark or a brewery most days. Read him here, writing about the A's or Giants at The Athletic, or about beer at October. Follow him on Twitter @enosarris if you can handle the sandwiches and inanity.