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Conan's Baseball Diary
Since the thread in my very real request for players in the Pagan Baseball League was hijacked by followers of the Christian mythology and their counterparts, I offer this sampling from our league:
Conan of Cimmeria's big league diary
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And Conan, the Right Fielder of the Mighty Cimmerian team, recalled the day his father taught him the Riddle of Wood:
No one in this world can you trust. Not managers, not pinch runners, not wicked outside sliders. [Points to 46oz baseball bat handed down by his father's father.] But this... this you can trust.
And on that final game against the wicked Right Hand Hurler Thulsa Doom, Conan stepped into the batter's circle and lifted his head in a defiant prayer:
Crom, I have never prayed to you before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we played, and why we won or lost. All that matters is that today, nine stood against nine. Valor pleases you, so grant me this one request. Grant me revenge! And if you do not listen, the HELL with you!
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