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by Wayne Carlan

Ok…I played in a co-ed softball tournament a few weeks back to raise money for a friend’s church. I sprained my left knee, pulled my right hamstring and my left glute. But I got some ice, Bengay and Geratol so I think I will live.

The thing was, as we were getting ready for our first game the other team was waiting on their last girl player. All of a sudden a tow truck pulls up and a girl hops out wearing blue jeans, flip flops, a Grateful Dead tattoo and a Marlboro hangin’ from her lips. “Well that can’t be her,” I said to myself, so I keep warming up with a friend. Then I hear the umpire yell “Play ball!” Huh? Flip Flop is walking to the field with a glove. She’s playing right field and it’s my turn to bat. This is gonna be great! “Ok, Wayne, just hit it to the weak spot, right field…”

I step up to the plate, tap my cleats with the bat, dig in and stare down the pitcher. He gives me a weak stare, winds up and throws the first pitch; it’s a ball. I step back out of the batter’s box, take a deep breath and prepare for the next pitch. I tap my cleats a couple of times with the bat and step back in. The next pitch is a beauty and I knock the heck out of the ball. It’s deep to right field and it looks like a home run!

I’m jogging to first base with my arms raised high in the air but then, Ms. Grateful Dead hops out of her flip flops, takes the Marlboro out of her mouth, runs like a deer to the fence and jumps 6.2 feet in the air catching my home run ball. What the heck just happened?

Now I guess this is a good time to tell you that I didn’t obtain all my injuries playing ball. Most of them were because I threw my hat on the ground and kicked it as hard as I could after Ms. Tow Truck robbed me of my home run. Craaaaap! Then my 16 year old niece, let’s call her Brittany Lee, knocks one out of the park.

I gotta get me a pair of them flip flops. I’m just sayin’!