FOH with a pitch count, in the '90s you rode your workhorse. And typically, that stallion was an already zit-faced, five-foot-ten buzzard in a pair of size twelve cleats.
Besides having inexplicably enormous feet, this kid threw straight cheddar. We’re talking 60-mph mustard. And—if needed—he was good for fifteen innings a week all summer long. That’s just the way it was back then. If you hadn't had at least two Tommy John surgeries by your fifteenth birthday, you weren't shit in '90s Little League.