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This one's for you.

For the alarm you set for 5:47 AM on a Saturday so you can drive two hours to a tournament in a town you cannot pronounce. For the folding chairs and the coolers and the sunflower seeds and the extra sunscreen you packed for someone else's kid. For the ten thousand hours you've spent standing behind a chain link fence, cheering until your voice gave out, watching your daughter play a game you probably didn't grow up playing yourself.

Softball moms are a different breed. Everyone in the community knows it. Even the umpires know it.

This is a love letter to you.

You Are the Logistics Department

Nobody sees the spreadsheet.

Nobody sees the group chat with 47 unread messages — the one where you are coordinating carpools to the 8 AM game in a town three hours from home. The hotel block. The team dinner reservation. The uniform order that came in wrong. The pitcher's mom who is stuck at work and needs someone to bring her daughter to the field.

You handle it. You handle all of it. Then you show up at the field looking like you've had a normal morning.

The team runs because you run. Nobody has ever thanked you enough, and nobody ever will. But every softball family in America knows the truth: if you don't have a mom like this on the team, the season doesn't happen.

You Are the Unofficial Coach

You have never coached a day in your life. And yet.

You know when her back elbow is dropping before she does. You know exactly what the umpire missed. You know the count, the outs, and which pitcher warms up faster from the bullpen. You have been watching this game long enough that you understand it in your bones now, whether you wanted to or not.

And you give the pep talks that actually work. Not the coach's speech in the dugout — yours, in the car ride home. The one where you talk her through the strikeout looking. The missed catch. The game she wanted so badly it hurt to lose.

You are the one who tells her she'll be back tomorrow. You are the one who reminds her why she plays. That conversation is the reason she keeps going.

You Do the Hair. Every Time.

The braid. The double braid. The Dutch braid. The high pony with the ribbon woven through it. The team bow that has to sit at exactly the right angle or the whole vibe is off.

You have done it in hotel bathrooms. In the parking lot of the field. In the backseat of a moving car twice, if we are being honest. You do it while she is still half asleep. You do it while she is in a mood. You do it because it matters to her — and because for some reason, softball has decided that the way your hair looks is part of the ritual.

And rituals are how girls tell each other we are on the same team.

Nobody outside the sport quite understands it. That's fine. You do.

You Are the Tournament Weekend Soldier

Four games in two days. Ninety-eight degrees. A field so far from the hotel you are basically living out of your car. Rain delays that push the whole schedule back four hours. Concessions that only sell nachos. A porta-potty situation you would like to forget.

You carry the entire operation on your back. The cooler, the chairs, the extra socks, the Advil, the sunscreen, the phone charger for the mom who forgot hers, the Band-Aid for the kid who isn't yours. You cheer for every kid on the team like they were your own. You feed players who are not your own. You clap for a kid you have never met when she makes a play, because that is what softball moms do.

And when your daughter finally comes off the field on Sunday afternoon — sweaty, exhausted, either glowing or heartbroken — you have the exact right thing to say. Every single time.

You Cry at Senior Night. You Should.

One day the last game will come.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you have known this since she was eight years old, standing in her first oversized jersey looking like she would swim in it. And now she is eighteen. She is grown. She is standing at home plate one more time for the flowers and the poster and the speech and the walk-off hug.

You will lose it. Every softball mom does. It doesn't matter how many practice runs you gave the speech in your head — the actual moment gets you.

Because you know something everyone in the stands only vaguely understands: this was never really about the games. It was about the mornings and the drives and the losses and the wins and all the tiny conversations in between that turned her into the person she is now.

The scoreboard never got any of that. But you did. You were there for all of it.

From All of Us

To the softball moms who are still deep in tournament season, and to the ones who are watching the last games of the last year — you are the reason this sport is what it is.

You brought the bows and the snacks and the pep talks. You brought the belief.

We see you. The whole softball community sees you. And we're grateful.

Line Drive Apparel is proud to gear up the softball families who make every season what it is — because behind every player, there's a mom who has been running the whole operation since day one.

Now go grab a folding chair. She's up next.

There is no experience in American life quite like a doubleheader in July.

Two games. One field. Four hours minimum. A sun that treats the outfield like a solar farm. By the second inning of Game 2, you will forget your own name. Your cleats will be filled with sweat. The team cooler will contain nothing but melted ice water and one lonely blue Gatorade that no one is going to touch.

We can't cool the sun down. But we can help you make it to the last out. Here is the honest field guide to surviving the hottest days of the baseball and softball season.

Before the First Pitch

1. Hydrate the Night Before, Not the Morning Of

The morning of a hot doubleheader is too late. Real hydration starts 24 hours in advance. Drink water throughout the day before. Add an electrolyte drink at dinner. If your pee is dark yellow at breakfast, you are already behind before you've even left the house.

2. Eat a Real Breakfast (With a Little Salt)

An empty stomach in the heat is a disaster. Eggs, toast, fruit, a real breakfast. Add a pinch of salt to something. Your body is about to sweat out sodium for the next four hours and it needs a reserve to pull from.

3. Freeze Your Water Bottles the Night Before

The classic move. Two frozen water bottles per player, plus a couple extras in the team cooler. They'll be slush by Game 1 and cold water by Game 2. Infinitely better than a lukewarm bottle from a cooler that's been in the sun since 8 AM.

4. Skip the Coffee Coping Mechanism

We know. We love coffee too. But caffeine is a mild diuretic, and a triple-digit doubleheader is not the day to be draining your system. Have a small cup with breakfast, then switch to water immediately.

During the Games

5. Electrolytes Beat Plain Water

Chugging plain water alone during a hot doubleheader can actually make things worse — it dilutes the sodium in your bloodstream and can leave you feeling more drained, not less. Alternate water with an electrolyte drink (Gatorade, Liquid IV, LMNT, Pedialyte — whatever's in the cooler). Aim for at least one bottle of water and one electrolyte drink per game.

6. The Ice-in-the-Hat Trick

Take a small handful of ice from the cooler. Put it under your cap. Yes, right on top of your head.

It melts down your neck and back and cools the blood flowing to your brain. Old-school players have been doing this for a hundred years. It works. It looks ridiculous and it works.

7. Cooling Towels Are Non-Negotiable

Not optional in triple digits. The kind you wet, wring out, and snap. Drape it around your neck between innings. Re-wet it at the water cooler every couple innings. It's a $10 upgrade that changes your entire day.

8. Wear the Right Fabrics

Moisture-wicking, not cotton. Cotton holds sweat and gets heavy — you are essentially wearing a wet blanket by the fifth inning. Look for polyester blends and performance fabrics. Lighter colors reflect sun better than dark ones (yes, this is why road grays feel hotter than home whites on July afternoons).

9. Sunscreen Every 90 Minutes

Set an alarm on your phone. You are going to forget. A sunburn on top of a hot day compounds the misery exponentially — your body is trying to cool itself down and now half your skin is inflamed. Reapply during warm-ups, between innings if you can, and definitely between games.

The Golden Window: Between Games

This is where most teams lose the doubleheader. That 30-to-60-minute break between games is a battle station, not a break.

10. Get in the Shade Immediately

Every minute you spend in direct sun during the break is a minute you are not recovering. Dugout, tent, tree, car — anywhere shady. Sit down. Elevate your feet if you can. Take your hat off and let your head breathe.

11. Eat Something Real

Not a granola bar. A real meal. A sandwich, some fruit, a wrap, whatever you brought in the cooler. Your body is starving even if you don't feel hungry. Salt matters more than sugar right now. Skip the fried concession stand food — grease sits like a rock in your stomach when it's 100 degrees.

12. Change Your Socks and Undershirt

The single most underrated move in doubleheader survival. Fresh, dry fabric on your feet and torso for Game 2 is a physical and mental reset. Bring backups. Your future self will thank you in the fourth inning.

13. Sip, Don't Chug

Drinking a full gallon of water between games doesn't hydrate you — it just gives you a stomach ache in Game 2. Steady sips of an electrolyte drink over the full break window are far more effective than a panic chug at minute 45.

Know the Warning Signs

Not everything about heat is funny, and this part isn't. Heat exhaustion and heat stroke are real, they can turn dangerous fast, and they take out players every summer. Stop and get to shade and cold water immediately if you notice:

• You've stopped sweating (this is a bad sign, not a good one)
• Headache, dizziness, or nausea
• Muscle cramps you can't shake by drinking water
• Confusion or slurred speech
• Skin that's gone bright red and hot but dry

If any of those hit and don't improve within a few minutes of rest, shade, and cold fluids, get a coach, parent, or trainer involved. In serious cases, call for help. No game — regionals, states, or otherwise — is worth a hospital trip.

What Not to Do

Quick hits on the rookie mistakes:

• Don't chug water only. Sodium matters. Balance it with electrolytes.
• Don't skip breakfast. You'll bonk by the fourth inning of Game 1.
• Don't sit in the sun on the bench between innings. Hats down, cooling towels on, use every inch of shade the dugout provides.
• Don't wear a black cotton undershirt. Just don't.
• Don't ignore how you feel to look tough. The player who admits they are overheating is the smart one. The one who plays through it is the one leaving in an ambulance.

The Real Secret

Doubleheaders in July are won by the teams and players who prepped like it mattered. The right gear, the right hydration, the right food, and the right recovery routine between games. The players who show up with a plan outlast the ones who show up with a warm Gatorade and a prayer.

Line Drive Apparel has the moisture-wicking gear, breathable hats, and heat-ready essentials to get you through the hottest days of the season — because looking sharp and staying cool aren't mutually exclusive.

Now go drink some water. And put a little ice under your hat.

The walk-up song is the most important 15 seconds of a baseball or softball player's day.

You get one chance to tell everyone at the field who you are before you step in the box. And the entire dugout will judge you for it. Coaches will judge you. The other team will judge you. The 65-year-old scorekeeper who's been running the sound system since 1994 will especially judge you.

Your walk-up song is your soul on a speaker. Here's what yours is really saying about you.

1. Old-School Country (Alan Jackson, George Strait, Merle Haggard)

You are: A third baseman who owns a truck.

You drive a Silverado. You have opinions about the correct kind of beef jerky. You wear the same pair of Wranglers to every practice. You have never lost your cool, and you have also never expressed a feeling. Everyone in the dugout respects you and no one really knows you. That's how you like it.

Signature move: A silent nod to the pitcher after ripping a double into the gap.

2. Modern Bro-Country (Morgan Wallen, Luke Combs, Zach Bryan)

You are: A first baseman with a fraternity past.

You have a lifted truck (that you did not need to lift). You bring a full case of Bud Light to every team gathering. You are actually a pretty good hitter, but you would rather talk about last weekend. Your walk-up song has changed three times this season based on what your college roommate's TikToks are using.

Signature move: A home run trot with a flat bat flip you saw on Instagram.

3. Hip-Hop / Rap (Drake, Future, 21 Savage, Kendrick Lamar)

You are: A shortstop who thinks they're cooler than everyone else on the field. And you are.

You have the fresh cleats. You know exactly how to wear your hat. You take extra reps you don't need to take because you know people are watching. Your batting gloves match your belt. Nothing at the field is unintentional for you.

Signature move: A slow walk out of the box on a home run, then a full sprint at first when you realize the ball hit the wall and you should have been running.

4. Metal / Hard Rock (Metallica, Slayer, AC/DC, Pantera)

You are: A closer with anger issues.

You throw 91 in the ninth inning and you do not want to hear it. You have a specific stare you give hitters. You have been ejected at least once this season and you are not sorry about it. Your warm-up routine involves screaming into your glove. You've watched the "Enter Sandman" Mariano Rivera montage on YouTube more than 40 times.

Signature move: Pointing at the batter after a strikeout. Coach has asked you to stop. You will not stop.

5. Pop / Taylor Swift / Sabrina Carpenter

You are: The leadoff hitter who reads books in the dugout.

You have a bat speed everyone underestimates. You have a Goodreads account. You are the only player who has ever read the team handbook. You wear the perfect eye black. You have never been thrown out stealing because you actually studied the pitcher's move, unlike your teammates who "just felt it."

Signature move: A very polite bat drop and a quick, efficient jog to first.

6. Classic Rock (Zeppelin, CCR, Springsteen, Eagles)

You are: The coach's kid, or someone raised entirely by their dad.

You have heard "Fortunate Son" 47,000 times and you still love it. You know all the words to songs your parents played on road trips. You have an old glove that was your uncle's. You call younger teammates "kid" even when they're only two years younger than you. You have an old soul and it shows in the way you play catch.

Signature move: Hustling out a routine ground ball for absolutely no reason.

7. Reggaeton / Latin (Bad Bunny, Peso Pluma, Karol G)

You are: The middle infielder who actually has rhythm.

Your walk-up song is a full vibe from the second it hits the speakers. You dance a little in the batter's box. You are the most confident player on the team without being the most talented, and somehow it works. You are exclusively the reason team dinners are fun. The whole dugout perks up when your song comes on — including, occasionally, the opposing team.

Signature move: Hip movement during the pre-pitch stance. Coach has stopped trying to correct it.

8. R&B / Smooth (Frank Ocean, Brent Faiyaz, SZA, Miguel)

You are: The center fielder everyone has a low-key crush on and no one will admit it.

You do not say much. You have unreasonably good hair. You catch every fly ball like it's routine even when it isn't. You are going through something emotionally and it makes you a better hitter. Nobody has ever seen you sweat, physically or metaphorically.

Signature move: A sliding catch, quick pop-up, casual throw back to the infield, zero acknowledgment.

9. Christian Rock / Worship (Elevation, Hillsong, Lecrae)

You are: The team captain who says grace before every game.

You are the most respected player on the team. You do not curse. You do not throw your helmet. You have never once been ejected. You give a speech before every playoff game and somehow it works every single time. You are 22 years old but you carry yourself like you are 47. Coach loves you. Your teammates love you. It is borderline unfair.

Signature move: Helping the umpire dust off home plate. Voluntarily.

10. Meme Song / TV Theme (SpongeBob theme, anything from a Vine, "Baby Shark")

You are: The utility player who does not take themselves seriously.

You have played every position on the field including catcher, which nobody asked you to do. You are the loudest person in the dugout. You have never been in a slump because you have never cared enough about your stats to be in one. You hit a walk-off single once and celebrated by doing the worm.

Signature move: A full-body reaction to a called strike, purely for entertainment purposes.

Bonus: No Walk-Up Song At All

You are: A very stoic corner outfielder or a very old catcher.

You do not need it. You have played 400 games. You will play 400 more. Music is for people who are trying to psych themselves up. You are already psyched. You have been psyched since 1994.

So What Song Should You Actually Pick?

Look — the walk-up song matters, but the fit matters more. You could have the greatest walk-up song in the league, but if you are walking to the plate in the wrong hat or a pair of pants that don't sit right, none of it lands the way you want it to.

Line Drive Apparel has the hats, tees, and gear that make sure the whole entrance works — from the moment your song hits the speakers to the moment you step into the box.

Now pick a good song. And for the love of the game, don't change it mid-season.

There's a specific look your non-baseball friends give you when the game is on at the bar and you start yelling about "chin music" and "Uncle Charlie" and "ducks on the pond." It's a look that says "You have gone somewhere we cannot follow."

Baseball has more slang per capita than any other American sport. Some of it makes sense. Most of it does not. And every phrase carries the strange assumption that everyone at the game grew up in a small farming town in 1948.

Here's the translation guide for your friends who love you enough to sit through nine innings but not enough to Google what "the hot corner" means. Drop it in the group chat. You'll be doing them a favor.

The Pitching Phrases

1. Uncle Charlie

A curveball. Nobody knows why. Nobody has ever known why. If you ask a coach, he'll say "that's just what it's called" and walk away. What your friend hears: "You have an uncle at this game?"

2. Cheese (or "bringing the cheese")

A high-velocity fastball. Bonus term: "high cheese" — a fastball up in the strike zone. What your friend hears: Something happening at the concession stand.

3. Chin music

A fastball intentionally thrown high and inside — near the batter's face. It's not a beanball. It's a message. What your friend hears: A wedding first-dance genre.

4. Painting the corners

When a pitcher throws strikes on the exact edges of the strike zone. Very high compliment. What your friend hears: An art class they've been meaning to sign up for.

5. Meatball

A slow, hittable pitch right down the middle. As in: "he hung a meatball and the kid crushed it." What your friend hears: An order at the bar.

The Hitting Phrases

6. Frozen rope

A line drive hit so hard and so straight it looks like a laser beam. One of baseball's few genuinely beautiful phrases. What your friend hears: Something from a hardware store.

7. Dinger (also: going yard, long ball, tater, jack, bomb)

A home run. Baseball has 47 words for home run and will invent more this season. What your friend hears: Nothing coherent.

8. Wheelhouse

The exact spot in the strike zone where a hitter does the most damage. What your friend hears: A compliment they think might be for them.

9. Golden sombrero

Striking out four times in one game. It's a badge of shame with a very silly name. What your friend hears: Something from a Cinco de Mayo party.

10. Hit for the cycle

Getting a single, double, triple, and home run all in the same game. Extremely rare. Very cool. What your friend hears: A SoulCycle class package.

The Fielding Phrases

11. Can of corn

An easy, high fly ball that's a routine catch for an outfielder. Origin theory: old-timey grocers used to knock canned goods off high shelves and catch them in their aprons. This is the actual explanation. What your friend hears: A side dish.

12. Web gem

An incredible defensive play — a diving catch, a leaping grab, a spinning throw from the hole. Named after the webbing of the glove. What your friend hears: A jewelry store.

13. Around the horn

When infielders throw the ball to each other after a strikeout with no runners on. Third base to second to shortstop to first. Pure vibes, zero actual function. What your friend hears: A road trip they weren't invited on.

14. Twin killing

A double play — two outs recorded on one batted ball. What your friend hears: A true crime podcast.

15. The hot corner

Third base. Called this because line drives get down there fast and mean. What your friend hears: A spicy menu item.

The Situational Phrases

16. Ducks on the pond

Runners on base. Especially runners in scoring position with a good hitter coming up. What your friend hears: A children's picture book.

17. Bases juiced

Bases loaded. All three bases occupied by runners. What your friend hears: A concerning wellness trend.

18. Bang-bang play

A very close play at a base — the throw and the runner arrive at almost the exact same instant. What your friend hears: Fireworks.

19. Squeeze play

A bunt designed to score a runner from third base. High risk, high reward, extremely dramatic. What your friend hears: A group chat about splitting a check.

20. Payoff pitch

The pitch on a full count — 3 balls, 2 strikes. Everything is on the line. What your friend hears: A financial services term.

The Culture & Superstition Phrases

21. Rally cap

When a team is losing late in the game, players and fans turn their hats inside out or backwards for luck. This is treated with complete seriousness. Nobody is joking. What your friend hears: A political demonstration.

22. Cup of coffee

A player's brief stint in the major leagues — just a taste of the show. "He got a cup of coffee with the Cubs in '19." What your friend hears: Actual coffee, which sounds nice.

23. Southpaw

A left-handed pitcher. Named because old ballparks were built with home plate on the west side, so a left-handed pitcher's throwing arm pointed south. Baseball has been overthinking things for 150 years and has no plans to stop. What your friend hears: A Rocky sequel.

24. In the hole

The batter two spots away from batting. On-deck is next up. In the hole is on-deck's on-deck. What your friend hears: A problem.

25. Small ball

A style of play focused on bunts, steals, sacrifice flies, and advancing runners one base at a time — as opposed to swinging for home runs. Also a personal philosophy. What your friend hears: An adjective, not a noun.

Send This to the Group Chat

Baseball is a language. And like all languages, it's easier to love when you understand a little of it. If your friends have been nodding politely through three seasons of your ballpark commentary, this is the peace offering they didn't know they needed.

And if they're going to sit through the game anyway, they might as well look the part. Line Drive Apparel has the hats and tees for the whole crew — including the friend who is still figuring out what "in the hole" actually means.

Now go explain a squeeze play. Slowly. And maybe buy them a beer first.

By your third tournament, you stop packing like a tourist and start packing like a soldier. The bag gets bigger. The system gets refined. Suddenly you're the parent the rookie families gravitate toward in the parking lot because you have an extra Sharpie, a portable phone charger, and exactly the right kind of granola bar.

If you're new to travel baseball or travel softball, this is the honest, field-tested packing list — everything that earns its place in the bag, what you can leave at home, and the small upgrades that change the entire tournament weekend.

The Travel Ball Essentials You Cannot Forget

A Real Folding Chair (Not the One From Your Garage)

That $12 chair from the big box store is a trap. By Sunday afternoon of a 4-game weekend, you will hate it. Spend the money once on a good one: canopy attachment, cup holder, side pocket, padded seat. Bonus points if it has a footrest. Triple bonus if it folds into a backpack.

This is the single biggest quality-of-life upgrade in travel ball parent life. We will die on this hill.

Sunscreen — And Yes, You Need Two Kinds

One spray bottle for the kid, because they will not sit still for lotion. One face-friendly stick or lotion for you, because three days of unfiltered sun adds up faster than you think.

Reapply at the start of every game. Set a phone alarm if you have to. You're not at the beach — you don't notice it's happening until you're already lobster-colored on the drive home.

Hydration That Isn't Just Water

Insulated water bottles, 32oz minimum, one per person. Electrolyte packets or single-serve Gatorade powder for the cooler. By game three on a humid Saturday, plain water stops cutting it for anyone in your group.

Cash. Real Cash.

The gate charges $5 per adult. The concession stand is debit-only "when the Square is working." The 50/50 raffle wants singles. Always carry $40 to $60 in small bills.

The Veteran-Parent Moves

These are the items that separate the families who look like they have their act together from the families running back to the parking lot every inning.

The Emergency Sharpie

You will need it. Autographing a game ball, marking a water bottle, writing your kid's name on a piece of equipment that mysteriously appeared in the bag, fixing the lineup card when the hotel printer was out of ink. The Sharpie is law. Keep one in the bag and one in the glove compartment.

A Portable Phone Charger

Your phone is your scorebook, your camera, your tournament bracket app, your text chain with three other parents, and your weather radar all at once. By 4 PM, it will be at 12%. A portable battery is non-negotiable.

A Small First Aid Kit

Band-aids, athletic tape, ibuprofen, Tums, allergy meds, tweezers. You don't need a paramedic loadout — you need the basics that turn a problem into a non-problem in 30 seconds. Splinters, blisters, and headaches are guaranteed by Sunday.

Wipes and Hand Sanitizer

Dugouts are disgusting. Bleachers are worse. The park bathrooms are a crime against humanity. You will use these constantly.

Weather Wildcards: Pack for Conditions You Don't Expect

For Heat

• A handheld battery-powered fan or misting fan
• A cooling towel (the kind you wet, wring out, and snap)
• A small umbrella — for shade, not rain
• Extra socks for the player, because wet feet ruin everything

For Cold

• A stadium blanket
• Hand warmers (cheap and life-changing)
• A beanie, yes, even in March

For Rain

• A cheap poncho per family member
• A waterproof pouch for phones and keys
• Trash bags, plural — they cover gear, line wet car seats, and double as ponchos in an emergency

The Snack Strategy

You will spend more at concessions than you mean to. Bring a backup so you're not feeding a family of four entirely on $14 chicken tenders.

The veteran loadout:

• Sunflower seeds (officially for the player, mostly for you to nervously eat in the bleachers)
• Granola bars or protein bars
• A bag of grapes or cut fruit in the cooler
• Gum (the player will ask for it between innings)
• Beef jerky — the unsung hero of the cooler
• Something salty and something sweet, because your blood sugar will need both by hour six

What You Think You Need But Actually Don't

After enough tournaments, you start trimming the bag:

• A full-size umbrella. Too clunky. A compact one or a poncho is better every time.
• Three changes of clothes per day. One spare is plenty.
• A laptop. You will never open it. Stop bringing it.
• A fancy charcuterie spread. No one is plating prosciutto at a youth tournament. Keep it simple.
• Expensive sunglasses. They will get sat on or lost. Buy a $20 pair and move on with your life.

The Travel Ball Parent Uniform

This is where most parents under-invest, and it's the easiest fix.

A breathable team shirt or hoodie. A hat that actually shades your face — not just looks cute. A lightweight pullover for the unpredictable mornings. Comfortable closed-toe shoes, not flip-flops, not the ones you wore to brunch. You're walking on gravel and grass for 10 hours a day.

Looking like you belong to the team is part of the experience. So is being comfortable enough to actually enjoy the games you drove three hours for.

The Last Item Nobody Lists

A sense of humor.

You will sit through rain delays, blown calls, three-hour games, and one truly memorable porta-potty experience per season. The parents who have fun at travel ball are the ones who packed for the long haul and accepted that the weekend isn't really about baseball or softball — it's about hotel pool nights, post-game pizza, the parking lot conversations that turn into friendships, and the kid's face when they actually get the hit.

That said, if you're going to be at the field all weekend, you might as well look the part. Line Drive Apparel has the hats, hoodies, and gear for the parents who basically live at the ballpark — because at this point, you do.

Now grab your chair. First pitch is in 20 minutes.