Gif Request?

Can't fark but I'll summarize


Christian tossed his tan Rawlings glove towards the home dugout and immediately brought his fingers together on his right hand like he was about to karate chop a block of ice or some other solid foreign object. Maybe the childhood Atlanta Braves fan would mimic a tomahawk chop as a way to give homage to John Smoltz, Greg Maddux or one of his many other boyhood heroes he grew up idolizing on Youtube. Instead, he traced the line underneath Arkansas on his jersey letting the Volunteer coaches and players know exactly which team would be going North the following week to compete on that Omaha dirt they all so desperately dreamed of sifting through their hands. 'Go the frick home, pussy!' Foutch exclaimed while staring into the eyes of Andrew Fisher as they began to well up with tears. Liam Doyle could not see what transpired as he was already sobbing uncontrollably and unable to focus on anything except the hurt he felt in the bottom of his stomach. No amount of collegiate awards or money awaiting him in the upcoming MLB draft could untie the knot that was violently twisting above his diaphragm like the rope of a flagpole left out in tornado. He struggled to catch his breath. The Volunteer dugout knew a long flight awaited them all. A somber ride out of the younger Ozark Mountains back to the much older Appalachian Mountains that they lived and fagged out amongst. Dave Van Horn, on the other hand, was in very high spirits. He pumped his fist and offered a wry smile to his pitcher and began hugging his assistant coaches. 'Yes,' he thought, "Go home pussies indeed."