1916

I was there when Zach Wheat chaffed at the idea of a time-traveling, fire-balling lefty. He tried to explain how the space-time continuum would not allow for such a thing. I struck him out on three pitches, and then brought him back even further in time to meet his own grandfather. He cried like a little girl, screaming about paradoxes the whole time.

Then I struck him out as he begged for the natural order of the universe to be restored.

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