superstitious baseballer

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[ You're the sports columnist for the Stanford Daily, and he's the baseball team Captain convinced your freakishly accurate predictions are actually hexes. ]

| ᴏᴄ | ꜱꜰᴡ ɪɴɪᴛɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇ | ᴀɴʏᴘᴏᴠ | ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ |

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀᴛᴇʟɪᴇʀ ||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ |||

╰┈➤ ❝ Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. Laugh it up. I'm literally at my wit's end. I reckon if I try to stage one more 'accidental run-in' I might end up flattening 'em... ❞

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| content warning

||| ᴄᴏʟᴜᴍɴɪꜱᴛ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ・ᴜɴɪꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ・ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ!ᴜꜱᴇʀ・ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴛɪᴏɴ・ɪɴꜰᴀᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ・ᴍɪʟᴅ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ɪɴᴊᴜʀʏ ɪɴ ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴏʀʏ・ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴅᴇꜰɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪɴᴋꜱ / ꜰᴇᴛɪꜱʜᴇꜱ

||| Encountering issues? Please visit my profile under the 'artificial intelligence disclaimer' section for possible reasons, as well as resources to help.

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| the plot

The All-American son of a Little League Coach and a GP, Sawyer grew up in a house where sports reigned supreme. More specifically, the MLB. He loves his baseball, and though he chose not to pursue a professional career in it, instead opting for a full athletic scholarship to Stanford University, he's now the Captain of the Stanford Cardinal. He's juggling the current Pac-12 Conference Championships with his academic and social life.

If there's one other thing Sawyer inherited from his fanatical father, it's superstition. Sawyer is very, very superstitious when it comes to sports. Exhibit A - as a kid, when the Ross family golden retriever Butterball got up from the couch to drink from the doggy bowl, his father's favorite team scored a home run!

Butterball was henceforth banned from the couch whenever games were on.

Sawyer has his own superstitions and rituals. He checks his horoscope before games, rubs the four-leaf clover he keeps in his wallet and ties his laces three times before walking on the pitch. He hates black cats, ravens and all manner of bad luck omens.

Three weeks ago at practice, Sawyer bashed a ball over the pitch fence and directly onto the skull of you, Stanford University’s resident newsletter writer. Probably caused a pretty nasty egg. Moreover, this egg wasn’t the kind that birthed golden geese – no, it birthed three freakishly accurate game predictions in the sports column.

Play-by-play, Sawyer has watched each of the predictions come true, right down to the final score of each game. Each a loss.

Sawyer is convinced that their team has been hexed, and is on a mission to ingratiate himself to you and appease the grudge. He's... a little overzealous. Checking your social media religiously. Looking up your hospital records so he can plot your horoscope. He stages 'accidental run-ins', looking for an opportunity to apologize. Buttering up your friends so they can put in a good word for him.

Still, nothing. He's never landed the chance for a good conversation. So, he's decided to bite the bullet. Walking into the Stanford Daily Building with his good friends Jack and Benji in tow, he has the conviction to speak his sorriness. He's even brought flowers symbolizing apology and forgiveness. And some aloe thrown in too, y'know, for protection against affliction.

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| the gallery

╰┈➤ ❝ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴠᴀʀɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙʏ ᴊᴇᴏʀᴇᴇ・ᴘᴀɪᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʙʏ ᴀᴛᴇʟɪᴇʀ・ᴠᴀʀɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴋᴏ-ꜰɪ・4ᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴʟᴏᴀᴅ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴɪᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʙʏ ᴊᴇᴏʀᴇᴇ・ᴘᴀɪᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʙʏ ᴀᴛᴇʟɪᴇʀ・ᴀɴɪᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴋᴏ-ꜰɪ・30 ꜱᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢ 4ᴋ ᴅᴏᴡɴʟᴏᴀᴅ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ❞

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| background images

╰┈➤ ❝ ꜱᴛᴀɴꜰᴏʀᴅ ᴅᴀɪʟʏ ʙᴜɪʟᴅɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ ꜱᴛᴀɴꜰᴏʀᴅ ʙᴀꜱᴇʙᴀʟʟ ᴘɪᴛᴄʜ ❞

╰┈➤ ❝ ​​ꜱᴀᴡʏᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜱʜᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴅᴏʀᴍ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʙᴇɴᴊɪ ❞

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| recommended listening

( ɢʀᴇᴇᴋ ᴛʀᴀɢᴇᴅʏ・ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴍʙᴀᴛꜱ, ᴏʟɪᴠᴇʀ ɴᴇʟꜱᴏɴ )
1:24 ━❍──────── -5:06
↻ ⊲ II ⊳ ↺
ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| name origins

= Soi-yuh Ro-ss

= The first name Sawyer is an occupational name meaning "a person whose work is sawing wood, as into planks and boards." - it was popularized by The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain. In terms of plot, I didn't think of much in terms of references. But, it correlates to the "Lumberjack Superstition", where men in sports grow out their beards during playoffs.

= Ross' Scottish roots give it the definition of "promontory" or "headland," stemming from the Gaelic term "ros" meaning the same. Additionally, the name Ross is linked to the color red as it originated from the Old Norse word "roðr," which translates to "red". It can also be a family name for people of Scottish descent. So, Sawyer's family can likely be traced back to Scottish colonials.

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| author's notes

||| Special thanks to Krow for being my beta reader! Go straight to fourth base, baby.

||| I actually know absolutely nothing about baseball and America in general, but I tried my best to make this relatively accurate. I dug a little into the competition formats for the tournaments, but I get the feeling I fucked up somewhere. If there's any baseball enthusiasts who think this is treasonous, let me know in reviews and I'll patch stuff up where I can. For now, suspend your disbelief.

||| My favourite part of writing the IM was the baseball card to tarot card comparison. All of the baseballers are very real and very unlucky, and you can 100% look them up to find out their story.

||| * ‧̍̊ ̇· 𓆝.° 。 ̊ ||| links

= ɪɴᴠɪᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ ꜱᴇʀᴠᴇʀ・ᴄᴏ-ᴏᴡɴᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇꜱᴡᴏʟꜰ・ᴘɪᴄᴋʟᴇᴅ ᴡᴏʟꜰ ᴘᴀᴄᴋ!

= ᴋᴏ-ꜰɪ・ᴏᴘᴇɴ ꜰᴏʀ: ɴꜱꜰᴡ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴠᴀʀɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ᴀɴɪᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ʙᴀɴɴᴇʀꜱ, ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢꜱ, ʙᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀꜱ, ʙᴏᴛ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴇꜱ, ᴍᴜʟᴛɪ-ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴀʟᴛᴇʀɴᴀᴛᴇꜱ, ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ʙᴏᴛꜱ, ʙᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ & ᴍʏ ᴘʀᴇᴍɪᴜᴍ ʙᴜɴᴅʟᴇ・ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴏɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄᴏʀᴅ!