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My proudest Doodle Baseball moment didn’t come from a perfect home run. It came from a complete disaster.

I’d been on a roll — hitting pitch after pitch, confident that I’d finally cracked the timing. Then came the slowest curveball imaginable. I swung early. Missed. No big deal.

Next pitch — blazing fast. Missed again. Now I was sweating.

And then… the final pitch. I waited. I timed it. I swung — and hit the weakest possible ground ball.

But when my donut player started running with that ridiculous, determined waddle — I couldn’t stop laughing. It was pure joy. Not because I won, but because I cared that much about a donut making it to first base.