I played in a couple softball games last night and have the injuries to prove it. I was on first when the batter after me hit a grounder. At the urging of my third base coach, I tried to take an extra base when the other team didn't field it cleanly. Unfortunately, I am neither fast nor good at sliding, so I really should have stayed at second. This is the last time I trust a third base coach known as "Stinkie."
Anyway, I slid awkwardly into third base, and then as he tagged me, the third baseman fell toward me and stepped on my right hand. He must have weighed 220 pounds and was wearing baseball cleats. My reaction was to yell a really bad curse word.
The umpire told me at the time to watch my language. This annoyed me, but I brushed it off. Later, when I was settling in behind the plate as catcher in the bottom half of the inning, he repeated his admonition. This really got me. I am not someone who curses often and in this case, I certainly wasn't cursing at anybody. I was in acute pain and yelled out. It was 10:30, so there were no kids around and I didn't repeat it or become confrontational. There is a time and place for everything and lying on the ground with a 220-lb man in cleats stomping on my right hand seemed like the right time and place for a nice F-bomb.
So here I am with an aching hand, a sore butt, and the feeling that I have been chastised by a pedantic jerk. Last night's umpire made me miss the ump from our games on Saturday who only had about 6 teeth, but was reasonable and nice, and I'm pretty sure he would have had more empathy for my pain.
Soundtrack: Lalo Schifrin (Thx1138)