Lisa Todd

You’re watching a baseball game. The announcer says “can of corn” and you blink. Then “painting the corners” and you check if your phone has signal.

You’re drowning in stats. Every game, every broadcast, every article throws another number at you. Exit velocity. Spin rate. Barrel percentage. xwOBA.

You walk into the baseball aisle and freeze. Too many gloves. Too many bats. Too many bags that cost more than your lunch for a week. I’ve been there.

You’re tired of staring at stats that tell you nothing. You see a kid hit .320 and think great season. Then watch them struggle in college year one.

You’re watching a game. Hearing “wOBA” and “FIP” like they’re common words. You nod along. But you don’t know what they mean. I’ve been there.

You spent hours drafting that perfect lineup. Watched your team sit at the top of the standings for two weeks. Then—bam (your) ace gets shelled.