The year was 1834. Jonathan O'Mallory, a hulking young man at 5'6" (it was 1834 after all) refused to join his father in the family business when he came of age. "I'm going to be rich beyond imagination," the young O'Mallory would explain.
"How?" his father protested.
O'Mallory had no discernible marketable abilities. He couldn't blacksmith, or cobble, or trade in general. He had absolutely no desire or intention to make any civic contribution whatsoever. But O'Mallory had a dream.
"You see this ball?" he would retort at his father. "I can throw this ball faster than anyone else in town. The whole town. And I'm going to throw this ball at a target, about 60 feet away. People will come from far and near, and they'll pay me. Hundreds!" (Still 1834).
"You're going to die, son," responded his father. "Starve to death and die."
Little did the senior O'Mallory know, however, that his son had just altered the course of human history, establishing the base principles for every professional sport ever. Today, in an era where it is finally socially unacceptable to even joke that a pitcher received too much money after being given a $155 million contract, we salute you young O'Mallory. Don't let anyone tell you you can't be paid handsomely for throwing a ball.
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