First of all, I’ll begin with an apology. This is not a shout out like I usually do on Mondays, but, for reasons I will state below, I hope you will forgive me. This will be kind of like a Friday Frenzy because I haven’t really written in a week. And I will apologize for any bad grammar or if I fail to see some misspellings in here. As you’ll soon find out, I cannot help it.
It happened just this week, a very bright and sunny day, possibly two bright for such a bleak situation. As I squinted the sun out of my eyes, I dreaded the exams that were slowly trudging up. And how could I not? The exams were starting tomorrow, and of course, I felt I had not studied enough by this point. However, studies must have breaks sometimes. So, on this eventful day, I decided to participate in a game of kickball with my dorm. I would soon regret it.
We reached the large, expanse of a soccer field on the edge of the campus, the wind cool on our skin. As our team, the combination of the second floors of both the girl’s and boy’s dorm, got out into the outfield, I had a feeling of dread, and I knew I would be useless in this game. I, for one, am not the biggest fan of sports. I occasionally watch baseball or basketball, but I’ve never been particularly talented at anything including physical exercise. I remember as I was walking out into the outfield, I flashed back to a moment in elementary school, when the only time I’d been useful during a game of soccer was when than someone had kicked the ball at my head and it had bounced into the goal. Though I usually think back to this moment and laugh, pretending for a moment that I actually had skill back them, but in reality, I’d just been coincidentally standing in the wrong place. I remember the flashes a pain, and then pretending it was nothing to all my friends.
Let’s just say, my talent in sports is nearly 0. However, I do know that physical exercise can help the mind. So I figured, why not step out into the field and get the juices flowing?
At first, I thought we were doing pretty well. The boys were definitely getting a big kick out of it. The game quickly proved to be boy dominated, and the girls stood gossiping. Then, there was me, constantly telling others that I cannot play this game well.
So I decided, next time we were on outfield, I would be the catcher. I had a little opposition for the role, and perhaps, thinking back to it, I should have let the guy do it. However, determined to be somewhat useful during this game, I wanted to do a role where I didn’t have to run around so much. I stood there for a while, awkwardly watching the plays go by, wondering whether I should be bending my knees to look legit or not, when a big play happened.
It all happened in the blink of an eye. Luckily for me, the sun was not in my face, and the sky was quite beautiful, a pure canvas of blue. All the bases were loaded, and with so many girls in the outfield, about three, I was sure the other team would get a run. A boy on the other team, skin the color of cream, and muscular legs whose hairs gleamed like metallic threads, stepped up to bat (or kick… since it is kickball).
The pitcher rolled the ball quickly, but the first pitch was way off the plate, so some of the tension dissipated along with the sweat on these boys’ arms. Then the second pitch, the ball just as quick, but a lot more straight. It came bounding right towards the boy’s shining legs. Granted, seeing as these boys are but college students, not professionals, I can’t really say the kick was super impressive. However, it carried out into the outfield pretty well, flying a bit above the horizon line of trees in the distance from my point of view.
The boy on third base made a run, bounding right past me and a whisk of wind. I did not worry about that one. However, then the boy from second base was heading right towards home.
My heart-rate quickened, adrenaline pumping like fuel in my veins. The ball had already been picked up and was headed right towards me. I instinctively bent my knees, my arms out to catch the ball, and I was ready to go.
I was not ready enough for what would happen next.
I caught the ball, firmly planted in my hands, and I stepped forward to stand on base, when he rammed me. I’m not completely sure whether it was me catching the ball or me having the ball in my hands and then him ramming into me that caused this, but I guess I’ll never know. But when I was conscious of the situation, my pinkie didn’t look right. Instead of taking straight out like the rest of my fingers, it was bending slightly away from my palm. I stepped away from the game immediately and began to seek help. I was scared, having no one to turn to for a while(the others continued to play, they didn’t realize it by this point. So they’re by no means villains here. Just btw), but seeing who my parents were, I think I was made to live with this kind of situation.
I thought the pinky was dislocated of first, according to sources, but in the end it was broken. At the moment I’m wearing a huge bandage on my left hand, my dominant hand, and am writing this blog with my voice recognition device on my computer. The fact that I did this the day before my exams really stinks. But I’ve stayed positive, at least I think so.
So that’s my story. I’ll be depending on the voice recognition thing on my computer to write my blogs, so sorry. Lesson this week? Well, I’m not going to tell you not to play sports or anything. It’s a healthy part of life, and you should do them if you like them. But what I feel like I’ve learned is that if something like this happens, there’s no going back. There are going to be days when you break something on the most inconvenient of times; however, be strong. And be nice to your pinkies this week. They are important, I will not be able to play saxophone for a while now. xD
See you Wednesday!