I grew up addicted to sports. Not so much to the actual playing of sports, but more so to the watching and statistical memorisation of said sports. I had everyone’s baseball card, and I knew their stats by heart. If asked, I could spout off the ERA of the White Sox bullpen–the left handed pitchers–against teams coming off a three game series at home. I also knew perhaps too much about basketball and other sports, but I was a baseball nut first and foremost. I was a sponge and MLB was a river of useless knowledge. Before I even solidified the concept of being a graphic designer in my head, I wanted to “draw baseball cards for a living, mom!”
However, like most things beloved from our childhood, there came a breaking point. Or two. Or twelve.
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