They Said It: Emily Nemens

Here’s the thing about baseball, and all else: everything changes. Whether it’s the slow creep of glaciers dripping toward the sea, or the steady piling up of cut stones, rock upon rock until the wall reaches chest high. nothing is still. Sometimes change comes as quick and catastrophic as a line drive — hear the crack of wood displacing a sphere of leather, yarn, rubber, and cork; watch how it pushes the ball flat and then, just as quickly, forward. The action spring the left fielder from his squat, and the man’s metal spikes tear into the turf, kicking up tiny wedges of grass, sending them toward the sky.

The Cactus League