My Ankle is the Size of a Softball...

In my head, it was great. I can picture it now...I stepped up to the plate, the ball was pitched, and my first swing made solid contact with the ball, letting me run for a double. The next batter steps up to the box, hits it a low ball right to left field. As it begins to decend, I start to run towards third, trying to beat the ball now being thrown to the third baseman. I go to touch the base...and it slides out from under me, skidding across the loose gravel of the diamond, causing me to roll my ankle; at least I was safe. Like I said, it was great. Going down in a blaze of glory, causing me to nurse my now sprained ankle with motrin and beer all night.

Yesterday, I met up with a bunch of work friends for a friendly game of softball out at Metro Beach. Sure its been decades since I last played, but hell, I thought it would be fun to give it a shot. No one else there had mad softball skills either, so why not I join the ranks of the unathletic too?

After my run-in with fate, telling me I'm waaaay out of practice, a little ice, motrin and a few beers eased my pain and created that soft numbness throughout my body; that same numbness that myself as well as thousands of other college students feel which allows them to walk to house parties, seemingly ok, with no coat and flip-flops in the middle of december.

Somewhere in this madness of self medication, myself and a few others from the game traveled to a local townie bar to drown our sorrows of our 30-12 loss. Yes, let me repeat that again, 30-12. Our asses were not just kicked, but wrestled to the ground and then set on fire. I guess a few beers destracts from your ability to field a ball.

Within this smokey land of nascar, alcohol and angry local drunks, we got the bright idea to karaoke. After a few rounds and a few songs including Kenny Rodgers, "The Gambler", Bob Seager's "Turn the Page", and other horribly sung masterpieces, the local drunks at the bar began to become surly at us young'ns and our clue to exit stage left was soon at hand.

So today I sit watching my ankle swell to the size of a softball, making me truly think that I was never really cut out for this softball thing. Instead, I think I'll stick to my tone-deaf karaoke. American Idol, here I come.