The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

Posts tagged ‘retire’

Goodbye, Fair Shoes!

Lazy post? Yeah, you betcha.

Farewell, sweet shoes!

Weird lacing technique, right? Thanks to my sis E$, who sent me this site, I gave this lacing technique a shot!

lazy blog post

After 360 delightful miles with these puppies, I say adieu. (Yes, I am a dorky engineer/runner and I keep track of the mileage on my shoes.)

Weekly Wacko (24)

The Natural, But, Different

I don’t think I was destined to be a baseball player.
I daydreamt about being a football player, a soccer star, winning cross country races, making the last second basketball shot – but never baseball.
I definitely daydreamt about having the wives baseball players have, or the money – but not so much the playing baseball aspect.

The one season of baseball I played was not baseball at all, it was t-ball.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s still pressure in t-ball. There’s a lot of pressure.
How embarrassing would it be to miss a ball sitting waist level on a stand.
Good God, please don’t let me miss this ball that is SITTING MOTIONLESS in front of me … Oh please …

My family has a tape of one of my t-ball games.
I had heard this story but it absolutely floored me when I watched the tape.
Apparently I had made a kid cry. Here’s how:

I was up to bat and got a pretty good hit, so I started off toward first base.
You can, in the tape, hear parents cheering. My dad included, “come on Brad! Go, Brad!” He can be loud.
One arm was pumping – run run run!
The other was on top of my helmet – they were overly huge. It annoyed the hell out of us but I think it was a plot our mothers hatched. (“They look so adorable!”)
I got to first and was told to keep going.
“Come on Braaaad!”
In the video you can practically hear the laughter in the parents voices as they cheer. Pee wee hockey is the best for laughing at kids though.

I was RIGHT ON the baseball path. This is where you run.
A player on the other team, though, … he was apparently not so aware.
He came through, not looking, and we collided.
A titanic crash of tiny limbs and adorrrrrable outfits (aka “uniforms”).
I got up and kept going.
They were still yelling for me to keep going – what else was I supposed to do?
The other boy …
We all don’t make it, do we?
Circle of life, right?
He was down, crying his eyes out.
I was rounding second.
His dad was walking out.
I was halfway to third.
His dad had picked him up.
I stopped at third.
His dad carried him off the field.
I was totally oblivious.
(But when I watched this tape I was laughing hysterically and, I’ll admit it, very proud of myself.)

Everyone has their baseball dreams – but maybe I just accomplished too much too soon.
Running into a kid full speed, then getting up and still getting a triple!
AND the other kid has to be carried off the field, CRYING?!
There’s just no topping that.
I had to retire.

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