baseball

An outdoor batting cage stood between the Pyeongtaek (평택) train station and a lane where, it was said, the mafia controlled the sex trade. Red light. American soldiers were off limits to the sex workers, and vice versa. The women lounged and catwalked in lingerie behind street-to-ceiling plate glass windows. Read more

A wooden Louisville Slugger stands in the corner next to my family’s front door.  Black electrical tape wraps much of the bat’s handle. And then some. It squeezes tight a hairline that fissured during batting practice with my dad one day. I was, I don’t know, eight years old? Ten? Read more