A Little, Teeny, Tiny Bit of Blood....Really!

The tables turned at basketball tonight. The vulnerable little girl that I was previously viewed as, has taken a sharp turn. That is what happens when that same vulnerable girls takes a man twice her size down to the ground and brings upon blood. That's what I did tonight!

This guy comes to basketball and may be the most miserable person on the face of the planet. Before the first possession is over, he is bitching and moaning about something. He yells at the people on his team and in his eyes, doesn't do much wrong himself.

I went after a loose ball hard. I usually let up a little, knowing that if I get hit by a grown man, it is going to sting, but I lost all inhibitions on this play, and just went after the ball without a thought. I remember I was playing with men when Grumpy Gus and I collided full force in midair. I lost my breath for a second as my hip and shoulder railed into him. Somehow, I was able to gather myself before my feet hit the ground and landed, standing up and holding the ball. Below me, landed Grumpy Gus, sprawled out, face down on the floor.

What was I to do? Anything would have been better than laughing, probably. But, that is essentially what I did. I started laughing for two reasons. Number one, to mask the pain of my readjusted hip. And, number two, because I thought the guy was joking around. Well, he wasn't. Five minutes later when he gingerly stood up, he said he had a bloody lip. Everyone called him out on it, as there was no blood visible. He argued that it was true and stuck his finger into his mouth. I think he scratched himself to supply the teeny drip of blood that sat on his finger. Either way, he was viewed as quite the sissy!

His miserableness heightened after the incident because of the fact that it actually happened and that people were ragging on him. "You got knocked down by a girl that weighs a buck 10." "She got the TKO in 2 seconds!" "She knocked you the f(*# out!" Those are just a tasting of what the guy heard for the rest of the night.

I didn't help his case as I stole the ball from him a few times. I did take it easy on him when he went in for a layup though. Instead of blocking his shot (which in reality I had no chance at), I grabbed his arm and fouled him. I couldn't muster up enough courage, strength, humility, whatever you'd like to call it, to apologize after the initial incident. I felt he may punch me in the face for making his night even more miserable than his life.