Which of These is Not Like the Other?

So here's a fun story.  I finally got to play in my first baseball game yesterday.  Of course I'm a little nervous, but what do you expect after not playing for twenty-some-odd years.  I just didn't want to screw up in the game and have everyone thinking, 'what the hell do we have this old fart out here playing for?'.  Hell, even the coach of the team is two or three months younger than I am.  But hey, he's playing, too, and the whole point of this league is to have fun.  This isn't one of those over-30 leagues back home where everyone acts like it could be their shot at the Show.  Seriously, that is taking things way over the top.

I was set pretty well for this game, though, so I was feeling good.  My hitting was good during warmups, and while the fielding still probably needs work, it's not any worse than anyone else on the team, and regardless, I was playing right field.  Yes, even in a country that doesn't really play baseball, I get put in the "safe" position where I can do the least amount of harm (S0sa didn't play there for the Cußs for no reason, you know).  

And when the game started, sure enough, someone lined one through the infield in my direction.  I think it was a good thing that it was a sharply hit ball, too, so I didn't really have time to think about it, I just fielded it.  And fielded it cleanly, thank  you very much, which wasn't as easy as it sounds due to the condition of the field.  One of the guys on the team who is from the Dominican, and knows a thing or two about the subject, commented that he'd seen better fields in Third World countries.  I tended to believe him.  So anyway, ball cleanly fielded, I, of course in my excitement proceeded to airmail the cut-off man.  No harm, no foul, though, as there was no one else on base, and there was backup there to keep the runner to a single.

So in the top of the second, it's my turn to bat.  With a righty on the mound I, in all of my switch-hitting glory, decide to turn around and go from the left side.  Now in BP, I had been hitting everything from both sides of the plate.  But I was also aware that I was going for some pitches that I had no business swinging at.  Sure, I could hit them, but there wasn't much on them, and I probably would have been out.  So I was going to make sure that I was waiting for my pitch.  Looked at a couple of balls, mixed in with two fouls, count stands at 2-2.  Wait for it, wait for my pitch.  Yep, I struck out looking.  Now in my defense, this was a strike that even Maddox and Glavine in their hey-day would have been embarrassed to have called a strike, it was so far outside.  But whatever, it was called and I was out.  0 for 1.

In the bottom half of the inning, our pitcher was fantastic and struck out the side, albeit with a little help from the ump - hey, at least he was calling it both ways, that's really all you can ask for.  So I get up to bat the next inning, and I'm thinking, 'okay, this time, don't just look at pitches.  If you can make contact with it, swing.'  Well, I would have no such luck, as this time around, he was nowhere close to the plate.  I might have fouled one back, but that was it.  Ball four, take your base.  Still 0 for 1, but at least my obp is .500.

Now, we'd been running on these guys all day.  The pitcher was incredibly slow to the plate, and the catcher had no gun whatsoever - rainbow city.  Hell, he could have gotten the ball to second faster by using the pitcher as a relay man.  That being said, I'm forty, still pretty much out of shape, and I was never the fastest guy in the world anyway.  Luckily for me, the guy behind me lines the first pitch into left-center, and I'm on second with no problem.  Well, there's a slight problem.  I'm pumped.  I'm excited.  I'm playing the game I love.  I can do this.  I can run on this guy.  He's horrible.  He's got no arm.  Piece of cake.  So with the first pitch, off I go.

Those of you who know me know that I'm kind of a moron.  For those of you who don't - well, I'm kind of a moron.  And unfortunately, I'm not talking about trying to steal, I'm talking about the execution thereof.  And oh, yeah, you guessed it - the catcher with the rag arm nailed my ass by about 1o feet.  There was no way I was safe.  They had me dead to rights.  But what did I do?  I tried to slide.  Very late.  And very badly (I never was very good at it, and that was two decades ago).  Basically, I set my foot against third base to where it couldn't go any further forward and then slammed all of my mumblemumble pounds into said foot in the act of "sliding".  Let's just say... ouch.

To make a long story short (yeah, yeah - too late), I was out of the game and I'm done with baseball for a few weeks.  It's all in my foot, thankfully, and I didn't do anything to my ankle.  The x-rays didn't show any fractures, so we're waiting a few days and then if there's no improvement, I'll have an MRI done.  I have a feeling I did something to the tendons and/or ligaments down there, but what do I know?  I've never done anything like this to myself before, so I have nothing to go on.  There's swelling, but not that much, and the colors you see in the picture didn't even show up until today (game was yesterday).  On the other hand, I don't bruise real easily (even cramming handle bars into my ribs last month on my way to the pavement didn't leave any marks), and yet, there's my foot in all it's glory.

Oh well, at least it gave me something to write about.

Sorry

So I know that I've been pretty unproductive lately, but when I just looked, I realized exactly how unproductive.  Three posts in a month and a half - wow. Yes, I suck, but you pretty much knew that one already.  It's not like I've not been doing anything, either, it's just that I'm having a hard time conveying the experiences in a manner that will do them justice.  I went to Köln [Kuln] - you know it as Cologne - for the evening about a week ago, for instance.  Cool town, tons of history (dating back to Roman times), and beautiful.  But that's all I've got to tell you about it right now - I can't come up with anything better yet.  Sickening.  So I swear, I'll try and get it together shortly.  I'm taking a few days off this week (my furniture is FINALLY arriving - it's only been close to eight f%&@ing weeks), so I'll try and at least update some things.  There's the baseball adventure, the car situation, Bergkirchweih experiences, fußball mania (it's Euro2008 here this month) - just lots of stuff going on.  So once again, pardon me.  I'm sorry.  Deepest apologies.  And I'll be back later, I swear.

Tschüß [chooss]

Apple Pie and Stuff

So thanks partly in fact to the fact that I don't really know hardly anyone around here yet (awwww... poor wittle Shteevie), I haven't gotten too homesick yet.  I know, it doesn't make any sense, but stay with me here - it will eventually.  I say that because I really haven't done that much of anything (and when I have, it's been fun), so when I'm not out somewhere, I'm sitting in my empty apartment with nothing to do besides surf the net or watch the one or two DVDs that I brought with me on the plane (my stuff apparently arrived in port today, so I may actually have furniture and more than a week's worth of clothes within a ten days or so - yea!!!). Therefore, it's a little piece of home, and I'm okay.

But deep down there must be some bigger yearning.  I say this because I was riding my torture machine home and I heard a sound that would normally make my skin crawl.  *tink*  But this time it was different.  *tink*  This time there was excitement.  *tink*  This time there was the sudden feeling of finding a long-lost treasure.  Yes, what I was hearing was a ball being hit by an aluminum bat.  *tink*  Now, like I said, normally that sound just makes me cringe.  It's not natural.  It doesn't belong with the game.  The game is meant to be played with wooden bats, not metal.  Besides the sound of a well-struck golf shot, and maybe the sound a bottle of Turk3y makes when it's opened for the first time, there's nothing quite like the sound of a wooden bat connecting with a baseball.  Pure magic.  

So when I got to where the sound was coming from, lo and behold, I find baseball being played.  Turns out that there is actually baseball in this town.  There is a local club team that has two different levels, plays games every weekend and practices twice a week.  And come the day after tomorrow, I'll be playing on one of those teams.  Now I know what you're thinking.  Comedy and baseball rarely mix, and while this will probably result in high hilarity if you like train wrecks, it won't be one of those time where the comedy works.  But dammit, I'm going to try.  

I might even be able to get away with it.  I'm going to be playing on the lower level team, which is the one for just having fun and enjoying the game.  And there's only three other American players on the team, so the fact that I grew up with the game may actually make up for the fact that I'm old and out of shape (torture machine not-withstanding).  It's like the language, except backwards - I'm fluent in baseball, so I don't have to think about what I'm doing, I can just do it.  And who knows - with a season of no pressure under my belt, I might even be able to move up to the 'good' team next year.