Softball Black 'N Blues

The church organized a softball league that plays every Thursday evening. Last week I played while Martha watched bashfully from the sidelines. That evening she realized being a spectator wasn't going to cut it so she resolved that next time she was going to play--provided she receive instruction and practice during the week. Over the course of the next few days, we went to a nearby school and did some hitting and fielding. Thursday came and she was ready. We played two games, had our fun and contemplated returning home. We were short on numbers, so we decided to stay and play a couple more. On my very first hit, as I was coming into second base, something bad happened. The combination of a poorly groomed grassy infield and the fact that I have flat feet caused me to turn my ankle out. You know the kind of twist where you can actually hear it? The sound like someone just snapped into a Slim Jim. Well, my old man would be proud of me because I didn't lay there on the field like a sissy. I hobbled off so the game could proceed and headed for the bench where I could be a sissy in safety. I probably shouldn't have kept playing but I didn't want my ankle to get stiff so I played nonetheless. When I arrived home, I iced it and went to bed. When I woke up the next day, I had a nice bruise so I thought I'd snap a pic for the viewers at home.