Letter: Whatever Was I Thinking?

I cracked a rib or two playing t-ball with 4-year-olds (I know, sad) yesterday and I am not available for anything that requires movement. 

And no hugs today.

The little kids had the bases loaded with no outs and we had just been talking to them about staying where they were if there was a pop fly.

Sure enough there was a pop fly by the t-baller at the plate and seizing the opportunity, I, an assistant coach for the Lil’ Crushers, standing on the mound for instructional purposes,  dove for it (I know, 72 years old, what was I thinking?) but I did catch it, sprawled on the ground, and threw to third base because the runner had taken off so that became a second out, then a throw was made to first where the little one had also taken off, thus a triple play!

That showed those 4-year-olds a thing or two!  

Hoping for some sympathy on social media, there were comments like, “Isn’t there an age limit to play t-ball?” and “May the memory of that awesome play (against four-year-olds) sustain you through recovery.”

Man, it sure hurts to laugh.