Run Rick! Run!

I used to play softball at night with one of my brothers. We played outfield—I was in left-center and he was in right–center. One game we only had nine players, so we went with 3 outfielders. It wasn’t a problem, that’s how it should be anyway. Since I was younger, my brother and I switched places. I played right-center…shifted a little more over towards right, but there was a big gap between me and the foul line.

Anyway, we were at bat for a long time in the 3rd inning and I guess I got a little cold—it was October. WHen we took the field for the 4th inning, the first batter hit a ball down the right field line. I had a long run to cut-off the ball and needed to hustle. When I took that first, quick step, I pulled a muscle in my right thigh (quadriceps maybe???). It wasn’t too bad, but painful enough that I had to focus and remember next time to push off with my left leg, regardless of which direction I needed to run. A few batters later a guy (or was it a girl?) hit the ball to the same place the first batter did. I remembered to push off on my left leg—and promptly pulled a muscle in that thigh!!!

When the inning ended I had to sort of hop-step from side to side because both my thighs were sore from the muscle pulls. You might think that as I shuffled in from the outfield my teammates would have been concerned for my injuries or admonishing me to remember to stretch between innings. But I didn’t get any of that. Instead, my brother and the rest of the guys were laughing to the point of tears.

The guy who ran the team came over and tried to ask if I was okay, but couldn’t get the words out through the laughter. Finally he managed to say I walked in from the outfield the same way his son walked when he had a full diaper.

Despite the pain, I had to laugh too.

PS - After that I went out and bought a pair of bicycle shorts and always remembered to stretch to make sure that didn't happen again.