The sun was just beginning to dip behind the suburban skyline when Leo realized his "home field advantage" was actually a major liability.
“I’m done spending more time hiking for balls than actually hitting them,” Leo muttered, pulling up his phone. He didn’t need a permanent iron cage that would kill the grass; he needed something that could disappear when dinner was ready. buy portable baseball hitting nets
When the box arrived two days later, Leo was skeptical. He wasn't exactly "handy," but the fiberglass poles snapped together like a tent in under ninety seconds. It stood seven feet tall—a massive, yawning mouth of heavy-duty hex netting ready to swallow every line drive he could throw at it. The sun was just beginning to dip behind