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My dad played semi-pro ball in Florida in the late 40s and early 50s. He was a pitcher for Mississippi State before that. So I’m always a bit intrigued by pitchers. Especially if they are also writers, like R. A. Dickey of the New York Mets, who describes his perfect knuckleball as “pure euphoria, a ball that looks like a butterfly in a windstorm.” Since today is supposed to be “Wordless Wednesday,” I’ll leave it up to you to read his delightful essay in the Tennessee Alumnus Summer 2011 Magazine:
“From the Mound: Literature and the Art of the Knuckleball.”