Arc of Excruciating Pain

I play softball two nights a week; I enjoy getting out on warm summer evenings, running around, catching, hitting and throwing the ball. A little fresh air, some exercise and possibly a beer or two usually makes for a fun evening.

Perhaps I mentioned that I've been playing catcher a lot lately, and the position has grown on me. At first, I didn't like the kneeling down, but now, I enjoy the occasional play at the plate and the night-long game of catch with the pitcher.

But let's talk about last night - sound good?

I'd spent the day working on the house, and I was tired. I sat back to watch a movie, but then I realized that I had softball in about 45 minutes. So I ran upstairs and got dressed.

While dressing, I thought, "Maybe I should grab my cup."

"Nah," said the other little voice inside my head."You've never needed it - why bother? It'll just slow you down. Besides. What are the odds of a shot straight to the twins?"

"Yep, little voice, you're right," I thought. "Let's get to the game!"

Top of the third. One out. I crouch down. Pitcher lobs in the pitch. Batter lets it pass, where it bounces on the ground - once, twice, thrice and right into my crotch.

I sprung up and teared up at the same time. Walking in circles didn't seem to help, nor did cursing. Finally, I tossed the ball back to the pitcher and finished out the inning. Crouching back down and finishing the inning didn't do much, either. Finishing the inning was tough, because, well, I couldn't really see too well - the tears kept getting in the way.

I made it back to the bench, where I could sit and ache in peace.

In my grand tallying, this particular shot to the marbles ranks as number three - number one being the paintball incident and two being the umbrella incident. But that's scant comfort.

All I can say is tomorrow night and next week, I'll be properly attired.