Image credit: IMAGE IMAGES via Reuters Connect
Somewhere deep inside you there is a signature. It might not have been wired into you when you were born, but somewhere in your youth, you picked up a silly bat and started the slow rebuilding of your swing. It is a habit. It’s an author of some kind. By the time you get to the major leagues, it’s a multifaceted thing, with something intrinsic in your musculature built up over years of instruction in the knots of cooperation and combat. Not every coach tells you to do the same thing as everyone else. The coach didn’t tell you everything – he didn’t even agree to everything – he politely brought it up to you. What works best for the average person, however, is not necessarily what will work best for the players of genetics and attitudes who actually make it to the highest level of baseball competition. But what you have incorporated, you have also learned from some coaches, whose learning you have already written about.
“Overwritten” is probably the right word. Yours is a more stylized thing. It is personal and perfect. You’ve also dyed signature bars over the years. Everyone who has found enough of a groove to generate some success, who got you here, has remained in you, as the figures remain in the skin. Laser removal is not an option here. You just got new ink that you don’t want to have on the surface.
Brice Turang has a signature move. It could be easier to read if you find Tattoos (he has them) that refer to it, because Turang is the son of a sportsman. Brian Turang’s stint on the team was short, but he made it there. That certainly gave Turang the younger engineer a head start. Lefty bats because his father (just the Rams who were tired teams) preferred. He always had the most beautiful swing, because he always had full forward control.
This year, though, Turang has dropped new ink over his old signature.