Before the walk-up songs, the launch angles and the exit velo, there was the dugout.

A glove. A bat. A helmet two sizes too big. And enough shredded bubble gum in your mouth to make talking completely optional.

You packed your cheek, grabbed the bat and walked to the plate like the whole damn ballpark had been waiting for you.

Nobody cared about your spin rate.

Nobody asked for your metrics.

You had eye black under your eyes, dirt on your pants and one job:

Hit the baseball hard.

Because some things in baseball don’t need to evolve.

The crack of the bat. The smell of the grass. The sound of cleats on concrete. And that ridiculous wad of gum you were absolutely convinced made you a better hitter.

Maybe it did.

BASEBALL CLASSIC 2.0

BUBBLE GUM

The next generation of classic fashion.

Pack your cheek. Step in. Rake.