John Carrico
photograph by John Carrico
It may be plebeian, it may be mundane, it may be just a hunk of burnished wood, but we've always had a soft spot for the baseball bat that serves as a handle on the Hole's front door. We can hardly grasp it without sweet daydreams dancing in our heads: knocking hanging curves into the pen, roping doubles down the line, beating smart-ass punks over their - er, playing catch with Dad. Americana at its best.
