Clocked

On this beautiful Memorial Day, I spent a lot of time outside with my buddy, Shea. One of my new favorite things to do with Shea is hit him his tennis ball with a baseball bat. I basically have batting practice, while Shea plays the field. 

Batting, made me think of the days I used to go watch Jeff play softball. He played in a slow pitch league representing a bar called Props. A bar that was so lovingly compared to Cheers. I think more for the fact that everyone knew your name, not for the deer heads on the wall. Anyways, Jeff had softball games every week. When I was in the area, I used to love to go and watch. 

I was so upset I was running late one day, heading over to his game. I was sure to miss at least one inning. And when it comes to slow pitch softball, you can understand why I was so upset to miss an inning. Pure action and excitement! As I hustled to the field, I noticed I did not see Jeff out on the field. What the heck? Maybe he was late too. As I got closer I noticed someone sitting in the dugout, injured looking. I said to myself, "that's probably Jeff," although I wasn't actually serious. The closer I got, the more I began to believe my declaration. This injured person was beginning to look an awful lot like Jeff. 

Turns out, Jeff had hit a grounder to second base. The second baseman, not only was nice and close, but had an arm like a rocket. As Jeff ran to first, the second basemen's rocket of an arm let go of an errant throw. An errant throw that hit my helmetless boyfriend right in the cheekbone/temple area. From the recounts of the event, he dropped like a fly. Just hit the ground like he was dead. After some smelling salts awoke him from his coma, he was in the dugout keeping score. His face had no ice on it, just a gigantic lump with the stitches of the ball etched in it. 

When I got up to him, he told me he could really use some ice. While Jeff had already been sitting there with another head growing off of the side of his face for about ten minutes, I felt that without the ice I was asked to get, he might die. I was sure he wouldn't survive another minute without it. I was not running in any races at that point, but I probably ran faster to the gas station on the corner than I ever have in my life.The ice didn't really help with the pain or the swelling. 

The night left me thankful for a few things. One, that Jeff was actually alive. Two, that all of Jeff's teammates bought us drinks at the Prop's afterward. It helped ease his pain just a little. And, three, that I was a few minutes late to the game. Lord only knows what I would have done if I saw the whole scene play out!