'Clack, clack, clack' go the metal spikes against the floor. The doors open and the afternoon sun floods into the dark locker room. Cold, late-winter air hits you in the face, but it smells good, like the thaw that signals the arrival of Spring. Most pair up to toss the ball, picking up after months like no time has passed, while the first-timers nervously look for someone to join them. 'Snap!' The sweet, crisp sound of balls arriving at their destination.
Ahh, baseball is here.
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