It's A Wonderful Time of Year!

To the baseball fan, there are a few great times of the year. When pitchers and catchers report to spring training is always a great day. That means that the rest of the position players will be shortly returning, and spring training will be in full affect.

The Grapefruit and Cactus leagues will start and everyone will have their chance to watch their favorite players get their cuts and conditioning done to be ready for the season. You also get to see the potential up and comers. It is something fun to watch and talk about.

Opening day for the MLB is another great one. The boys of summer are back, and nothing can ever possibly go wrong when baseball is being played.

Now one of the best days of the year comes when we can all step back on the field. Here in baseball north, it often means throwing on some extra layers and watching the inside pitch, but it is still great. The greatness comes because for 27 outs, and 90 feet at a time, we can all live the dream.

For myself and a lot of my fellow dirt bags, the season runs from May until sometime in November. I like to take a few months off once the season is done. I eat what I want, drink what I want, and forget what the inside of a weight room looks like.

Well the attendance in the weight room has started again, and its time to drop the off season LBs. But this entry is not about time in the gime. It's about what follows.

Last week I started to hit again. Great feeling. The hitting calluses will be back soon, and it will be time to start legging out the extra base hits and trotting after the dingers!

But the real way I could tell that it is almost time for ball season, was I started to throw the other day. It was incredible. A simple game of catch might seem just that, simple, but to a die hard fan of the game, it is so much more.

Catch is a reminder of the tens of thousands of times you have done it before. It's a time to reminisce about the season just past, with the bitter taste of being so close. It reminds you of the glory years you've had, and the better years you hope to have.

The throws start off really short, just to brush the dust off the arms. You go through the mechanics that have been entrenched into your brain, and try to
just get the feel for things again.

As the throws start to stretch out, the accuracy tends to diminish. One hops to your partner, too high, too wide; it goes with the territory, but you know that the rust will soon be removed to reveal the polished piece of machinery that is a ball players arm.

It is the beginning of the best time of year. It means the season is just around the corner, and we can all be boys of summer. It has always been the center of some of the best memories of my life, and it will continue to be.

I've said for years once I finish playing college ball, my playing days will be over, and I'll be alright with that. Baseball been very very good to me, so it will be my turn to give it all back.

One of the best pieces of advice I ever got in regards to the game hits the nail right on the head. Always remember, the umpire calls out the first pitch to ever game with "Play Ball!" Never once has it been yelled "Work Ball!"

The season is right around the corner everyone. Swing hard, just in case you hit something.

It's Your Birthday Dude....

This past weekend was a BIG weekend. One of these only comes around every couple months within a group of friends. Sometimes, you have a bunch right in a row, and let me tell you, it gets painful. Long days, late nights and early mornings are all mixed in with loud noises, unquenchable thirsts, and the resulting headaches.

For those who might not know what I am talking about, it was a good friend of mines birthday this weekend, and we got after it! It turned into a two day debauchery dedicated to the birth of my good friend Santana.

I began receiving texts and phone calls Friday afternoon around 3 to confirm my presence. The first of which came from my friend Noire, and I told him that I would be in attendance but would have to touch base with them later. I had my hands full with things around the apartment. Phone calls and IM's were not on my priority list.

Phone calls continued, but I ignored them; with such bad reception in my basement apartment, answering calls can be a real inconvenience. The occasional text was sent on my behalf, but my friends seemed to get a little peeved over the fact that I was sending texts, but not answering phone calls. I received a voicemail from my buddy Leo calling me gutless for not attending the festivities and explaining that I was a real jerk for not attending.

Not once had I told them I wasn't attending. Like I've already stated, I was just busy all day and answering the phone was not something I wanted to do.

Let me continue. I had a couple beers while I got ready and jumped in a cab to meet my friends for 11 in front of a bar we normally do not attend.

I was greeted by shocked faces and comments along the lines of "I can't believe you showed!" or "I didn't think you were coming!" I call these people my friends, but they seem to not know me at all. When have I turned down an opportunity to head out and misbehave? Party foul on their behalf!

Myself, Leo and Noire were standing out front waiting for Santana and the rest of the group to show up. I was introduced to a guy, who was also celebrating his birthday, but I don't remember his name. He had a guest list that he put us all on, and a bottle service once we were inside. He could stay.

Santana eventually arrived, but for some reason felt he had to wait in line. You will understand why in a second. He saw us waiting for him, and tried to run up to greet everyone, and me. Santana tripped over the rope that separated the line from the sidewalk. This was followed by him realizing that he had forgotten his wallet at home. He was already out of his tree, and the night was only supposed to be beginning. Thankfully, the DD for the night was willing to drive him home to get it. What a joke.

Unwilling to wait outside in the cold for Santana to get back, myself, Leo, Noire and the dude with the bottle service went inside.

We proceeded to the top floor, and got ourselves some drinks. The plan was to hang out there for a bit, and then head to a more familiar bar. But as you know, plans tend to change in an instant.

Anticipating that we were leaving, the three of us did not even check our coats. We stood in this crowd, and watched the room slowly fill up. A shot of tequila and another beverage later, Santana finally got there, this time, with his wallet.

He dragged us to the lower level of the bar that was featuring some cover band. As most tend to do, they were butchering some of my favorite songs. I ordered another drink, and they started to sound pretty good.

Santana was staggering around from conversation to conversation as people continually were filling up his pint. Every time he came up to talk to me, I spent most of the conversation trying to avoid him spilling his booze all over my sweater.

A booth finally opened up, and we capitalized on a chance to sit down. We felt it was a good idea for Santana to sit a couple plays out. We chatted about this and that, cracked a few stupid jokes, and then the plans changed.

As we were all talking, someone made a gay joke, and Santana decided to share with us that he is gay. I think his girlfriend of several years might not be too impressed with this, but we all thought it was hilarious.

He began walking up to people, and introducing himself in the following way "Hi, my name is Santana. It's my birthday and I'm gay too. It's also my coming out party." Once this started, we all decided that this two leveled bar was the destination for the night. Santana had already been let in, and most likely would not be let in anywhere else.

In for the long haul, we finally checked out coats. More drinks were acquired, and dancing ensued.

The requests were made that I did my impression of how my friends danced, and if you've ever seen them dance, I've got it down to a T. Since Noire was out with us, I decided to add his bump and grinds to my repertoire. People were paying attention to me, I was very happy.

Another drink was gathered.

I noticed my first individual to laugh at. His dance moves were unparalleled, and resembled a seizuring three legged dog. We pointed. We laughed. He joined us in laughter, but we were laughing at him. Kudos to this random dude though, he was having a great time.

The night continued rather uneventful, fill in some drinks, more dancing, and the occasional inebriated heart to heart from Santana, and you pretty have an understanding of how the majority of the night went.

Deciding that we needed to spruce up the evenings events, I began to ponder how to jump start the things a bit more. Leo and I approached the bar to get another drink, when I saw my opportunity.

A girl had gone to the bar to get herself a beverage, and removed the tiara that she had been wearing as an accessory. When she glanced away, the tiara became mine. I subtly grabbed it, and put it on my head. She faced forward and wondered where her tiara had gone.

The way I saw it, it was a win-win situation. She either noticed I had it, and I was granted a conversation starter, or she didn't notice I had it, and I would have a nice accessory of my own to make me look pretty. She didn't notice I was wearing it, so I was looking pretty!

I walked back to the group and instantly got laughs. My plan was a success. We continued to dance, and everyone wanted a piece of the princess in the tiara. After so much dancing, in such tight quarters, I began to find it very difficult to control my perspiration. This upper level bar featuring your usual club mix of music had slowly filled to the brim. Every time you moved you were unintentionally groping, or being groped by some stranger. I had just enough of the liquor to not even be bothered by it.

My sweat continued to pour out, and I decided the sweater had to go. I took it off in an attempt to cool down, but that plan did not work. More sweat leaked our of my pores. The jokes were made that I "needed a squeegee" to mop up all the sweat. Thanks guys.

The night ended, and we piled into the DD's car. I live out of the way from everyone else, so the driver was very nice to drop me off. To show my appreciation, I drew pictures on her window. It was fun. You are welcome for the artwork.

A stop at pizza pizza for a slice was necessary, and after it was purchased, we quickly arrived at my basement apartment. The driver asked for a bite, I laughed at her, and told her I was thankful for the ride home.

The first night had ended. It was fun. Happy birthday!

The next morning started slowly. That was to be expected. A nice meal and a shower later, I was starting to feel better. I tackled some book learning, until I was summoned to the gym by Leo. My body ached with the thought of working out, but it was very necessary after the previous night.

We got to the gym, and started our workout. It was a chest and back day for me.....ladies.

As I began to lift, the gas began to start, the smells really burnt the nostrils. To quote a favorite movie of mine, it smelt like "burnt hair inside a used diaper." I've been told by a friend who has three beautiful daughters, that the smell combination of those two things could be one of the worst smells on the planet. My innards had achieved that.

We had finished the workout and decided to do some abs. I should have quit while I was ahead, because the ab exercises did me in. The combination of compressing the stomach, sweating, and the physical exertion, did not sit well. The party that had been taking place in my stomach the night before, was about to end.

I ran to the restroom to discover that some good Samaritan had used the stall, and not flushed. Thanks you jerk! The poor urinal took the punishment for your ignorance.

We left, and I got home to a warm shower and a nice nap. I got a phone call from Leo informing me that it was time to do it again. Great!

We arrived at a nice restaurant/pub and glanced into the room to notice it was Santana and some family (cousins, sister, his girl friend etc.). We sat down and instantly noticed we were the white shadow in the room. Time to get a drink.

We stood out like sore thumbs, and periodically caught other people at the table looking at us and whispering. I'm going to assume they were commenting on how good looking we were. I mean, how could they not.

After a couple drinks, people started to buy the birthday boy some shots. Leo and I decided to provide a few for him as well. Santana began to oppose taking shots alone, so they started coming in two's. For some reason, I was elected to take the shot with him. That's cool, free shots are my favorite kind of shots.

We told stories about the night before, other nights out, and just had a good time. It was nice, we were the last to leave.

Leo and I went to one of our favorite places after this, but the story for Santana's birthday celebration ends here. It was good times shared by all, and a nice 48 hour bender. So happy birthday dude, and I wish a drink for you, a drink for me, and lots of sex when its free.

Cheers!

Did That Just Happen?

Today has been a bad day in terms of weather. It is winter time, but today has been exceptionally poor; the snow has been constant, the wind bone chilling, and the temperature numbing.

Big Red, Hedman and myself had just finished throwing around some weight in the gym (Hedman was throwing around less, but doing his fair share), and we were on our way back to the car. We had decided to take the long route to the parking lot because the snow had filled the path that is the short cut to the parking lot. Deciding to not be the trailblazers that sacrificed the dryness of our pants to reconstruct the short cut, the longer route was deemed a better decision.

Turns out it was a good decision.

Big Red and I had been waiting at the lights to cross the road and were observing cars drive by at speeds not conducive to the poor weather conditions. As the light turn orange there were two cars preparing to turn into campus. One was making a right turn, the other a left. Both cars seemed to ignore the existence of the other, and had decided to make their turns.

I had been just starring off into space, when the silence was broken by Big Red asking "is this about to happen?" As I looked up to observe these two cars starting their turns, I responded simply "yup".

The car making the left turn was a small sedan while the right turning vehicle was a truck that towered over the left turning vehicle. Both vehicles attempted to turn into the one lane road into campus, when both back ends started to fish tail.

CRASH!

"Did that just happen?" Big Red inquired. I nodded in agreement that we had just witnessed a minor accident.

The young lady got out of her car and was hysterical that she had just been hit by the older man in the truck. "Did you just hit my car you..." insert a slew of expletive language to finish her sentence. The old man was much more calm about the situation, and asked if the girl was alright or injured. After being assured that nobody was hurt, the two pulled up the road a bit to begin exchanging information.

The long route turned out to be a good decision, because we were able to witness two examples of poor driving and bad judgement. Drive safe.

Cherry Popper

Well here it is everyone. My stories are finally going to be published, and I figure I am doing service for the people I know, and society in general, by writing them down. I've joked with my friends for a few years that my life should be documented, and that I should write a book; this is the first step.

I've been known to drink at inappropriate times, make fun of posers and idiots, indulge upon every opportunity I can that allows me to have fun, and ignore the consequences that result. I am much more responsible of a person than this makes me sound, but I try to live my life 90 feet at a time.

Let me take a second, well more than a second, to explain the title of my blog. I am a student athlete, a baseball player to be specific. Baseball has been, next to family, the most consistent part of my life. But, after a few disappointing occurrences around the game, I was ready to retire. Hang'em Up!

I spoke to my mother about this, and I remember the conversation exactly: "baseball has been air to you since you were 4 years old, what has replaced air?" I thought about that as the conversation continued, "just because you can't have baseball in this way, doesn't mean you can't still play. Why not give it one more year, season..." the fall season is what she was referring too, "and if you still don't enjoy it, then stop playing."

She then dropped a bush league line to end the conversation "C'mon, do it for your Mama!"

On the scale of the things that your mother can ever ask of, clean your room, put away your dishes, don't stay out too late, chew with your mouth closed, take that chewing tobacco out of your mouth, to play a game for a few more weeks is probably the easiest of her requests.

So I decided to give it one more go.

What resulted was one of the best seasons of baseball I have ever been a part of. Everyday, we showed up at the "yard", put in our work and shot the shit. And for the first time in my entire life, I played on a team where top-to-bottom everyone got along, the first actual team I ever played with. These are The Lords....aren't we sexy?

The cohesiveness showed on the field, we won, and we won, and we won. What made it better almost, is that we lost some games we shouldn't have. It made the wins taste that much sweeter. And the bus trips, the bus trips were epic. The most memorable line of the season came from one of my good buddies on the team during a "who has the hairiest ass" contest. Conceding defeat without even competing, I made the comment "my ass is like my face" referring to the ability to grow hair, my good friend responded with "your ass has a goatee?" The bus erupted into laughter.

But I have digressed a bit. Over the 8 week season, the team had its ups and downs, and rallied around them all. We won the provincial championship, and the veterans on the team claim that this is the best Lords team that they have ever been on. We were essentially a game away from becoming national champions.

But through all of that, the most important thing I walked away with, was a renewed love of the game. This season with the Lords represented everything that is good about baseball, and why it is so perfectly imperfect; kind of like life.

This season provided me with a great group of friends as well, and a has started me on a path of self-acceptance, realization, and given me even more confidence (the jury is still out on whether that is a good thing or not). I am a Lord, and I live my life with my teammates day in and day out. We go to class just to pass the time between opportunities for fun.

So now that you have a better understanding of the title, this is where you can find my stories about the adventure that is my life.

So thanks to CMO for giving me the inspiration to start writing this blog after continually reading his blog (check it out at http://mykalsreport.blogspot.com/) and my Mom for begging me to keep playing, I've reached a point in my life where I have never felt more assured about myself just because I was willing to "do it for my mama". Thanks also goes out to my friends that are there for all the 90 foot intervals, hup hup hup flip it and row and then we can do it live!

And to everyone else, I hope you enjoy reading my stories as much as I enjoy living them.

Later Days!