Rendered card commission for  BenjiKipper, who wrote this description to accompany it:

Name: Benji Kipper
Team: Yellowstone Teddies
Position: Starting Pitcher
Age: 25

Yellowstone? The Teddies hadn't seen top league play since Benji was first learning to throw. Perhaps there was irony in that. The last four years had been a whirlwind. Benji was a Rookie of the Year candidate in the upper leagues dumped in the smallest market possible for a couple of prospects and a "player to be named later" after two shoulder operations. Controversy followed after he claimed apathy about his team's record. Sure, he couldn't hit 98 on the speed gun anymore, but this couldn't be the end of the line, right?

It was his brother’s idea–a crazy one at that, to try learning a new pitch. It had gone by many names, the floater, the flutterball, the butterfly, or its most known moniker, the knuckleball. After an offseason throwing in the backyard it seemed like it may just work. It took him from the backyard to the lowest ERA in the second league in a matter of months.

And now his cocky grin was back, watching balls dance past overextended bats, off-balanced sluggers hitting weak dribblers right back to him. He’d pump his fist to the small mountain town crowd after each out. By season’s end, the old concrete and wooden bleachers rocked and swayed under the weight of the over 20,000 faithful packed in the decades-old, government built stadium. Finally, Benji completed the shutout to guarantee the Teddies' promotion for the first time in over two decades. The cat relished in the moment, though not so much for the promotion. Sure, it was a nice bonus, and it would silence the talking heads in the media who claimed he was washed up and toxic, and maybe even get back at the management that had shipped him away. Truthfully though, the one-on-one battle was what he craved. He’d proven to himself and some of the best ballplayers the world over that he was a force. People could say he was a one-trick-pony, or that it was a one year fluke. Hitters in the top division wouldn't fall for his antics, right? What did they know? In his mind, he’ll prove them wrong the first chance he gets.

It didn't matter if his arm fell off this time. The cat knew second chances didn't come often–not in this game. Yellowstone? Big contracts and bright lights be damned, he'd make this the center of the baseball world if it meant he could keep pitching.