I knew it the moment I saw him. His perfectly round head. His cute buck tooth. Those innocent wide eyes. His smooth, porcelain-white skin. The way his polo and shorts hug his body just so.
Even before I spoke to him outside of the first gym, I knew the undeniable truth: Ball Guy is good. Ball Guy is a friend. He didn’t even need to give me a Poké Ball for me to feel this way; Ball Guy’s mere existence is not only valid, but crucial in our increasingly cynical world. Ball Guy knows what he likes, and he earnestly embodies it — literally. We could all do to learn from Ball Guy.
And yet, wherever I look, so-called “Pokémon fans” besmirch Ball Guy’s name.
“He scares me,” cowards say. “Why does he look like that?” these poor, lost souls continue. “How did he get into my house?” they whimper with fear.
Ball Guy does not owe us an explanation. Ball Guy exists in a world where grown men run around in Pikachu onesies while holding six of the same useless monsters and it’s fine. By these standards, Ball Guy is frankly a pretty normal dude. Actually, Ball Guy is a helpful pal. He’s always ready to give you a new ball when you find another gym, complete with everything you need to know to make use of it. I love Ball Guy, even if I can’t really name search him online without regretting my entire life.
Ball Guy’s fandom is small, but it is pure, and that makes me happy. Thank you, Ball Guy.
— Out of Context Pokemon (@OoCPokemon) November 19, 2019
So… Yeah. The Ball Guy? From the new pokemon game? My new boyfriend. pic.twitter.com/bnxzkVzXtk
— Buncle (@CuckyUncle) November 16, 2019
— Fruityrats (@Maja_helen) November 17, 2019
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