Of Course, I Mean Softballs

Sunday, in the aftermath of K's bachelor party, I played softball with my neighborhood team. I knew that playing while running on only a few hours of sleep wasn't a good idea, I owed it to the team to be there to give them my support.

Boy, I was wrong. How was I wrong? Let me count the ways from The Scholar's E6 Spectacular:

• Overthrew 1B on a routine play.
• Underthrew 1B on a routine play.
  
• Overthrew 3B on a routine play.
• Made an amazing over-the-shoulder catch while running toward LF, promptly turned and overthrew 2B.
• Bounced hard-hit grounder off of my arm.
• Bounced hard-hit grounder off of my hip.

The best inept play of the day, came on a sharply hit grounder to my side of second base. I shuffled a few steps to my left toward the bag and bent to field the ball. It takes a nasty, nasty hop and pops me squarely in the chin as it rolls up my face, knocking off my hat and glasses, and standing me straight up. Everyone at the field made a wincing noise. Hell, even the base-runners stopped running. I felt something dripping from my chin and looked over at the second baseman to ask if I was bleeding. When she said that I wasn't, it just pissed me off a little more. Hell, I at least needed a little injury to the insult, you know?

When we got back to the dugout, everyone was asking if I was okay and checking on me.

"I'm fine," I confided. "Just a little pissed off at how I'm playing."

"Don't worry about it," one friend told me. "We can tell you're not your normal self out there today."

"Guess not," I said. "Seems like I'm getting tons of bad hops and just not playing well. Damn, it's like my chin is a magnet for balls."

As soon as the last phrase left my mouth, I kid you not, several heads whipped around to look at me, mouths agape, grins spreading across their faces.

"Softballs. I'm talking about softballs."

The important life lesson: don't perform activities requiring coordination if severely sleep-deprived. Also, do not speak in front of a group of people.