So Gil asked me to join his team today cause they needed an extra player. I haven't exactly played in, like, 3 years.
The first game was supposed to be at 10:30am, and the team didn't show up. We win! By default! My kind of game.
The second game was supposed to start at 3:00pm, but was delayed until 4:10pm. With the hot sun, I already felt drained.
They stuck me outfield. Did I mention that I only played infield when I actually did play years ago, because I'm horrible at tracking down fly balls? But guess what: I actually caught like 4 balls without making an error. I would like to think of that as a victory.
I would like to think of the following as a defeat, however: I didn't record a hit. In fact, I hit 0 for 5, with five pop-outs (but two sacrifice flies). Oh, and I even broke their star player's favourite aluminum bat by accident. Of course I did.
And in the end? Yup...I'm sore because I'm using muscles I don't normally use.
* * *
So to celebrate (and to celebrate Father's Day), we went to Montana's where I promptly gluttoned myself with ribs and wings. I really have to stop gorging myself on weekends.
Oh, and of course my Dad said something inadvertently funny again: upon discussing one of Gil's friend's kid who apparently is very hyper and active, my Dad made a medical diagnosis on the child (even though I don't think he actually saw the kid). "I think he has autism". I asked him why he would think that. He said, "I don't know. Okay, maybe he has Tourette's then." Apparently having a hyperactive child means that there has to be a problem with the child then, as opposed to them being normal
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