Baseball is a man's game.

In my ongoing efforts to prove myself the worst videomaker known to man (I hope to reverse that reputation forthwith), I offer this presentation of my recent efforts in the batting cage at the Angry Nun Mall in Lasalle. I entered the cage whimsically thinking that this activity would read from the same action script as the adjacent mini-putt, I'd dig in, do a little hip swivel and lazily shake the ol' toothpick at a few fat pitches down the middle. Once in the box I realized I was in the grips of a death struggle against this indifferent robotic arm putting my manly manood to the test. It hearkened to old war movies on Matinee With Joe Van. Like a soldier, you're wearing a helmet, holding your ground in a high pitched battle against an unrelenting machine whistling potentially hurtful objects at you. That cage is closed for the win-tyre but perhaps later this month I'll juice up a bit on the testosterone, hit the gym and jet down to Florida to enact some devastating revenge for the balls I whiffed.