Friday, May 29th, 2026. A moment in time

Bryan Reynolds hit a walk-off home-run against the Minnesota Twins, defeating them by a score of 6-5. Your father was convinced that the pirates had blew their shot, leaving two of the fastest runners on base in the eighth inning. But you didn’t think so, you watched till the very last second and heard the sound only a bat blessed by God himself can make. The elusive no-doubter. The bat cracks so loudly it echoes through every viewers house. The pop rattles the stadium the fans begin to jump in the air, their emotions controlled by the distance of this baseball. It sails over the head of the left-fielder, who only watches in abject horror as he realizes his team just lost the game. You jump up and down, a twisted sense of hope and nervousness flooded your brain, but it has now exited in the form of a victorious yell. Simply put, YOUR team has won, the other team lost. You like to think you helped them win, by manifesting such an uncommon event. In reality, you didn’t, but it is just another reason to be excited. The pirates may lose tomorrow, and they may lose every single game until the end of September, but in this moment, that doesn’t matter to you. The pirates won, so we should be celebrating. I am leaving this here as a time capsule, so that one day I can remember such a beautiful time and reminisce on the day that I played wiffleball outside with my buddies, when I hit a triple and ended friends no-hitter. When I came home and ate pizza while watching the pirates game. And, of course, watching in amazement of the grand spectacle put on right before my eyes.

Hoist the cone proudly, because you can’t hoist it forever.

Much Love,

wigglesburg