It was the summer of ‘04. I’m in the eighth grade and playing the last of Little League before trying out for varsity baseball. I was going through probably the worst hitting slump in my life, with zero clue how to fix it. I went to the batting cages after games, becoming more aggressive with my approach at the plate, but nothing was working. So like any other sensible baseball player, I concluded the only way to break out of my funk was to shake up my pre-game ritual. I needed momentum back.
There are some sportswriters who don’t think momentum is a real thing.