You may think that I’m new to the blogging scene, but I have news: I’ve been a blogger since 2005 when I first got on MySpace
Yes, MySpace, the original social networking site. I loved blogging on MySpace because for one, I was sure that no one would read them. Also, I was in a place in my life where I had such little allegiance to anyone or anything, I never felt any pressure to not write exactly what I wanted to write.
MySpace is long gone (well, I guess technically it’s still here) and so are the blogs that we all published on them. However, because I’m that type of person, I saved each blog I wrote on a Word document and kept them on my computer.
The other day, while organizing my digital files, I came across the stack of them, took a read, and found this little gem (below) from October 2005. I thought I’d bring it back. Maybe I’ll bring a few others back, if they aren’t too embarrassing.
OK, I’m coming out with it: I can’t play baseball.
It’s the first sport I learned, and was my first true love. But after I missed the sign ups in during the 5th grade season, I moved on to swimming. And then basketball, skiing, surfing, back to basketball and now I just do anything to keep my pants from getting too tight. i.e.riding bikes and running.
But now, again, somehow, I’m back to baseball. I thought it would be cool. I thought it would be easy: I used to be good, right? Well, that was 1988….
This is 2005 and I throw like a girl.
I throw like I’m trying to shoot a free throw. Same arc, same follow through. Same results: I can only throw the ball about 15 feet high and 12 feet far. Anything I attempt farther than that is usually off the target by about 5 to 10 feet. I throw like I bowl. It’s really almost as if the ball weighs 15 pounds.
My brother in law saw me and said, “Eli, do you really throw like that?” See, when he saw me, he thought I was JOKING.
This is embarrassing folks. Really bad. But that’s not the worst of it…
Batting.
I thought that would be a breeze as well. And after my first practice, I was feeling OK about things. But then, the season started, and not only do I have 9 jersey-clad members of another team under the white-hot park lights waiting for me to fail, I have the crowd behind me, half of them rooting for my demise and the other half… really hoping I’ll hit it. I don’t know which is worse: I do know that both of them together equals a high pressure situation.
By the way, you only get two strikes in softball. That’s because slow pitch, theoretically, is too easy to offer three chances.
So I’ve been practicing. I go to the batting cages a few times a week to regain that form I once had. Yesterday I’m swinging away and this guy comes up to me and says. “You trying to learn how to hit lefty?”
“Ha, Ha, real funny, guy,” I say (in my head) “Yeah, I am, but the thing is I AM a lefty. Joke’s on you! Wait, no, it’s on me.”
This is embarrassing.
You want comedy? You want to watch someone who understands that his manhood is on the line with every catch, throw, and swing of a bat? Come to the Yucaipa Regional Park on Tuesday and see me desperately try to deal with the pressure of recreation league softball. Good times, good times.
Yes, good times indeed. Thank you and good night.
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