5 years.
Doesn’t really sound like a long time does it? Unless you’re talking about doing time in the pokey for law enforcement corruption, being a political dissident, or child porno-graffy or some other similar crime that will get you stuck on the lower rungs of the Oswald State Penitentiary.
“Here fishy, fishy, fishy, Fresh fish!”
No. We are not going there so you can relax right now.
What I am talking about is my pending return to sports.
To be more specific, Softball.
Softball? Is that even a sport?
Can you come out of retirement for softball?
I don’t know. It just has this whole oxymoronic feel to it. You know what I mean? Oxymoron. It sounds like a household cleaner for idiots. My personal favorites are:
Almost done.
Black light.
Constant change.
Blonde ambition.
Recorded live.
Softball comeback?
It’s freakin softball for crying out loud. You can’t get all worked up about a sport for past their prime wanna be ball players, can you?
Ok. That was a bit harsh. Not all softball players are over-the-hill, wannabe baseball players. There are some good ballplayers tearing up the turf and drinking beer out there. It’s a hell of a lot of fun and you can get real competitive, real fast. All I know is that the Yankees haven’t won a World Series since I “retired” and since every single thing I do directly correlates cosmically to the success and failure of the aforementioned Bronx Bombers, I need to put the cleats on one more time.
They need me.
You do realize that ballplayers are, by their very nature, a superstitious lot?
How else to explain the Curse of the Bambino and never stepping on a foul line or not changing socks after getting three hits in a game or rally caps or hell, rally monkeys?
There is a cosmic force that binds fans to their teams.
It defies logic and common sense but we, the true believers, know better.
So now that I am playing, hopefully the Yanks will get their butts in gear and start rattling off a few Championships like the good old days.
Look, I know that I really have nothing to do with them winning and losing… come on. I’m not a complete moron.
Who do you take me for?
A Red Sox fan? Please, give me some credit.
(If Red Sox fans could actually type, I am sure I’d be getting some hate mail right about now…)
Relax Beantown. I am just joking. I like you guys.
Seriously.
You guys are a hoot. What with that crazy accent and the green mahnstah and those really clever Jeter loves A-Rod shirts.
Yep. Tickles me pink it does.
Right in the cloisters.
Anyway... after all that exercise and proper dieting and practice I have finally had my first softball game in a good long while, at least five or six years. Not to bad. I pulled a few muscles I didn’t know I even had but I was able to walk off the field and avoid the stretcher and the oxygen mask and the nervous looking paramedics near my dugout.
“Thanks guys, the defibrillator won’t be necessary…”
And you know what the best part is?
I get to do it again next week.
Cool.
