Some of us have traumatic T-ball memories. Some of us couldn't hit the ball off that damn stand to save our young lives, never mind our developing egos. But there is a way of getting over these lingering phobias. We're talking batting cages. That's right, a little pocket of chain-link fencing where it's just you, a bat and a machine hurling balls at your head. There's something so wonderfully cathartic about a batting cage. You're not just working out your sports demons—you're taking aim at every stress-inducer in your life. Crack! There goes your boss. Crack! There goes that creditor. Crack! There goes that parking ticket. A dozen swings in, and you've forgotten those pesky little issues and are happily pounding away at a little ball simply for the sake of pounding away at a little ball.
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