Wednesday, November 11, 2009

The Gold Glove

This past weekend turned out to be very pleasant where I live. Saturday was nice but Sunday was better. The temperatures got into the seventies one last time and the entire family was wearing shorts. I have to say, after growing up in New England where it’s occasionally snowing by now, 70’s is pleasant change.

But, with warm weather comes the need to do outdoor chores. So I raked a little, weeded at little, and mowed the yard. For all the Northerners reading this, that’s right, I mowed the yard in November.

Wife and I also forced the kids to stay outside most of the day because we knew there wouldn’t be many more days like this. Eventually, the kids ran out of things to do so Boy suggested a game of kickball.

I’d had enough of yard work so I decided to play. Tiny, like her big brother, is ultra competitive and wanted to play. Girl wanted to play because everyone else was playing. We even managed to get Wife into the act.

Without a doubt, the best kickball player was Daddy. What can I say, I’m just bigger and stronger than the rest of the weaklings in my house. Because of my obviously superior skills it was Boy and Wife against me. Tiny and Girl only wanted to kick, so they were designated kickers.

The game was going smoothly until it came time to prove why I am ‘King Kickball’ at our house. Boy was pitching and Wife was ‘in the field’. I warned Wife to backup. I even told her, you’re too close. Back up!” But she didn’t listed. So I blasted a ball way over her head into the neighbor’s yard. Boy has a very strange look on his face. It was a mix between awe at how far I had kicked it and annoyance that I was going to score.

I scored and we continued to play. A little while later while attempting to end my turn at bat, I popped one up to Wife, who dropped it. Boy again had a strange look on his face. It was part wow what a kick and part annoyance that Mom dropped an easy pop up.

I went to the field and we played some more. Later, Girl and Tiny were on first and second and I needed to score some runs. I kicked a high floater. It was just high enough that when Wife jumped up, arms fully extended she couldn’t reach it. Boy again had a strange look on his face. It was part annoyance that Mom missed yet another ball and part annoyance that he couldn’t get me out.

The next time I was up, Boy turned to Mom and said, “Why don’t you pitch?”

Later that night, Wife and I were talking when I finally had to ask, “Wow. You’re taking the whole kick ball thing pretty well.”
Wife: What do you mean?
Lee: Well, you know. You got subbed out.
Wife: No, Boy wanted to switch.
Lee, in a fit of honesty, Oh ho no no no. You got pulled because of poor performance. You were the hole on the left side of the infield. You were Stone Glove McGee. He put you in pitcher because you couldn’t make an out. You got yanked! SEE YA!

And the look I got told me that I should have gone with ‘yeah, he was being nice and letting you pitch.’

No comments:

Post a Comment