Game 3 Versus the elMVP Boys

It was the best of times, it was the God Damn Fucking worst of times.

My head hurts; I've had a migraine all day. There is no skin on my right knee and the blood is seeping through my pants so that they are sticking to my leg down by my shin, a shin that's by the way, bruised from a line drive in the first inning. I can feel it with every step since the soft cloth of my pants are too much pressure on it and cause it to throb with pain. It would have been worse if it were a direct hit. It wasn't, first it bounced of two fingers on my pitching hand instantly numbing them to the point where two hours later, I'm having trouble typing. I'm glad their numb. Every now and then I'll get a surge of feeling and it hurts enough that I can't wait for it to go numb again. I keep misspelling words because my fingers can't type correctly and I've got sand in my eyes. I can't get it out because I've got dirt all over me and everytime I wipe my eye more gets in. Maybe worst of all is that I grit my teeth in pain and hear myself crunch down on the dirt, and I can't even tell you how much that disgusts me. And all of this combined doesn't near the pain or misery of losing tonight.

My drive home was a blur. I remember snapping to about 8 miles up the road, and then again when I got off the Interstate. I arrived home and saw my girlfriend, and I smiled for the first time in a while and things started rushing back to me about how good my life actually is. I love my girlfriend, and my job, and my pets, and what I've done with myself, and what I've gotten accomplished, but those thoughts actually feel hollow right now because absolutely none of that helped us win that God Damn game.

Baseball, and by relation softball, is a funny thing. I'm a competitive guy; I'll admit. I want to win everything, and rarely do, and I'm actually O.K. with that. But it's like they say, baseball is like a woman. No matter what else is going on in your life there's nothing like the feeling of rounding first, feeling the pillow of the bag as you turn your ankle and dig for two. Going into the hole and backhanding a ball, even if they make it safely to first they were not going to get that ball by you. There's nothing like a single, a solid line drive that's a no doubter, that off the bat you know, and THEY know, is going to fall in. You've got first base and it's up to them to stop you from getting farther. You're thinking. Always thinking. Always planning, and when you're a step ahead you know it. You see the next play, you command the game. It's like you're watching it on repeat, and winning every bet, and then at the end, when you find out what you so knew to be true was all a lie, that she ran off with your best friend and you never thought it was a possibility, and then you've got to turn to him and say, "good game." and it doesn't matter what else is going on in your man, that's pain.

O.K. so we lost. 9-8. Gave up 4 runs in the final inning. First time we were losing all game. It sucks, but you'll go to your best friends wedding with your ex, and you'll bring a fucking hot date, and you'll absolutely crush that other team the next time out, and you know no matter what happened with that first girl, the groom is going to be looking at your new one the next time around. That's going to feel good. That's why we play the game.

Oh yeah, and Mendy his his first over the fence homer. Yay.