"bawled"
.
@goat I hated baseball but I played an entire extra season JUST so that I could justify continuing to get Big League Chew
T-ball was great. We were champs. I only got called out once. And it was bullshit. Dude tagged me with an empty glove while the ball was in his other hand, and then he moved it. Problem was, second base umpire was my dad, and he didn't see it clearly, so he had to call it for the other guy. I balled like a little bitch in the dugout for like an hour. I'm pretty sure I got ice cream after the game to make up for it. Also a pack of Topps that happened to have Ryne Sandberg in it. Probably still have that card somewhere.
I played football in 8th grade. I was (one of) the littlest guys on the team, but was quick (not fast) and fearless. They let me play on kickoffs. The highlight of my football career was getting a bead on the returner and taking him down with a perfect one-on-one open field tackle. I didn't care that he was 5 yards out of bounds, I was taking that bitch out. No flag, either.
Honestly, I'm shocked we weren't all drinking soft drinks in the 80s and 90s branded as "Toddler Beer" or some shit like that.
T-ball was great. We were champs. I only got called out once. And it was bullshit. Dude tagged me with an empty glove while the ball was in his other hand, and then he moved it. Problem was, second base umpire was my dad, and he didn't see it clearly, so he had to call it for the other guy. I balled like a little bitch in the dugout for like an hour. I'm pretty sure I got ice cream after the game to make up for it. Also a pack of Topps that happened to have Ryne Sandberg in it. Probably still have that card somewhere.
I played football in 8th grade. I was (one of) the littlest guys on the team, but was quick (not fast) and fearless. They let me play on kickoffs. The highlight of my football career was getting a bead on the returner and taking him down with a perfect one-on-one open field tackle. I didn't care that he was 5 yards out of bounds, I was taking that bitch out. No flag, either.
Guarantee if you got flagged for that, you'd still be as salty today as I am about getting wrongly called out by my own goddamn father.
I'll never forget playing against one of my best friends in major leagues (12U). We had parents umping the bases and he got called out at first on a bang-bang play by his dad and he threw the worst fit I have ever seen him throw in his life. Typically chill dude, but he went off. Took his helmet off. Actually threw it at his dad. We were all stunned. His dad just turned his back and walked away like a pro. I think that set him off even more. His coach had to literally pick him up and carry him off the field.@bar-down then look over and scream out, "dad, when's snack?"
My god.
The best was when I coached t ball. I had this one kid that never ran the bases right. He'd hit the ball, run to third, sometimes still with the bat in his hands. Sometimes it would make it to the outfield where some kid on the other team was doing cart wheels.
T-ball was great. We were champs. I only got called out once. And it was bullshit. Dude tagged me with an empty glove while the ball was in his other hand, and then he moved it. Problem was, second base umpire was my dad, and he didn't see it clearly, so he had to call it for the other guy. I balled like a little bitch in the dugout for like an hour. I'm pretty sure I got ice cream after the game to make up for it. Also a pack of Topps that happened to have Ryne Sandberg in it. Probably still have that card somewhere.
@bradstevens 6th grade was my last year of baseball. i played a few positions and i was also the last pitcher. anyway in those days they had inclusion. maybe they still do i don't know. but it was a big thing then. so the team we were playing had an inclusion kid. today he would have been on a special Olympics or in soccer we call it TOPSoccer team. but then he got put on a team without special needs kids. so this poor kid comes up to the plate. i throw a strike. kid is like a statue. doesn't swing. doesn't even look at the ball coming. frozen in that same spot. what the hell. and kids were mean then. i could hear a little laughter behind me. i throw pitch two. strike. count is 0-2. same drill. kid doesn't move. frozen. doesn't swing. doesn't look at the pitch. doesn't look at the ump. frozen staring straight ahead. body like a statue. it kind of throws me off. so the next pitch i'm a little off and throw a ball. our coach was an insane screamer too. he shouts COME ON SON! GET IT TOGETHER!. i take a moment. throw the next pitch. ball. now we're at 2-2. Coach screams CONCENTRATE!!!!!!!!! COME ON DAMNIT!!!!!!!!!! Batter in what has now been five full minutes hasn't moved. staring straight ahead. not following the ball. his surroundings. just a statue. Friends I can hear behind me in the infield knowing i'm kind of coming apart. I throw the next pitch. ball. full count. COACH runs half way into the infield he's so pissed off screaming. i look over to my best friend today, the gummie guy, and he is hiding his face in his glove. i walk around the mound for a second. no one will make eye contact with me. this kid hasn't moved once. frozen. not one attempt to swing. eyes not even following the ball. hasn't moved once. the crowd is now dead silent. i walk up to the mound, go through my windup, and throw a fast ball that as god as my witness time stood still for. we all watched in horror as it was going straight to his head. i hit him dead in his helmet. the entire place gasped. but the ball went straight up into the air. way up in the air. i chased it down and caught it!!!!!!!!! and shouted YOU'RE OUT!!!!!!! at this point i'm right next to home plate. a foot from this kid who hasn't moved still despite the ball hitting him in the head. next to him is the ump. "take first base son." by this time our coach is next to us and in the weakest voice i've heard from a grown man he whispered to me: get off the field.
that was my last time pitching and my last season of baseball. not even big league chew could survive it
@bradstevens 6th grade was my last year of baseball. i played a few positions and i was also the last pitcher. anyway in those days they had inclusion. maybe they still do i don't know. but it was a big thing then. so the team we were playing had an inclusion kid. today he would have been on a special Olympics or in soccer we call it TOPSoccer team. but then he got put on a team without special needs kids. so this poor kid comes up to the plate. i throw a strike. kid is like a statue. doesn't swing. doesn't even look at the ball coming. frozen in that same spot. what the hell. and kids were mean then. i could hear a little laughter behind me. i throw pitch two. strike. count is 0-2. same drill. kid doesn't move. frozen. doesn't swing. doesn't look at the pitch. doesn't look at the ump. frozen staring straight ahead. body like a statue. it kind of throws me off. so the next pitch i'm a little off and throw a ball. our coach was an insane screamer too. he shouts COME ON SON! GET IT TOGETHER!. i take a moment. throw the next pitch. ball. now we're at 2-2. Coach screams CONCENTRATE!!!!!!!!! COME ON DAMNIT!!!!!!!!!! Batter in what has now been five full minutes hasn't moved. staring straight ahead. not following the ball. his surroundings. just a statue. Friends I can hear behind me in the infield knowing i'm kind of coming apart. I throw the next pitch. ball. full count. COACH runs half way into the infield he's so pissed off screaming. i look over to my best friend today, the gummie guy, and he is hiding his face in his glove. i walk around the mound for a second. no one will make eye contact with me. this kid hasn't moved once. frozen. not one attempt to swing. eyes not even following the ball. hasn't moved once. the crowd is now dead silent. i walk up to the mound, go through my windup, and throw a fast ball that as god as my witness time stood still for. we all watched in horror as it was going straight to his head. i hit him dead in his helmet. the entire place gasped. but the ball went straight up into the air. way up in the air. i chased it down and caught it!!!!!!!!! and shouted YOU'RE OUT!!!!!!! at this point i'm right next to home plate. a foot from this kid who hasn't moved still despite the ball hitting him in the head. next to him is the ump. "take first base son." by this time our coach is next to us and in the weakest voice i've heard from a grown man he whispered to me: get off the field.
that was my last time pitching and my last season of baseball. not even big league chew could survive it
@bradstevens 6th grade was my last year of baseball. i played a few positions and i was also the last pitcher. anyway in those days they had inclusion. maybe they still do i don't know. but it was a big thing then. so the team we were playing had an inclusion kid. today he would have been on a special Olympics or in soccer we call it TOPSoccer team. but then he got put on a team without special needs kids. so this poor kid comes up to the plate. i throw a strike. kid is like a statue. doesn't swing. doesn't even look at the ball coming. frozen in that same spot. what the hell. and kids were mean then. i could hear a little laughter behind me. i throw pitch two. strike. count is 0-2. same drill. kid doesn't move. frozen. doesn't swing. doesn't look at the pitch. doesn't look at the ump. frozen staring straight ahead. body like a statue. it kind of throws me off. so the next pitch i'm a little off and throw a ball. our coach was an insane screamer too. he shouts COME ON SON! GET IT TOGETHER!. i take a moment. throw the next pitch. ball. now we're at 2-2. Coach screams CONCENTRATE!!!!!!!!! COME ON DAMNIT!!!!!!!!!! Batter in what has now been five full minutes hasn't moved. staring straight ahead. not following the ball. his surroundings. just a statue. Friends I can hear behind me in the infield knowing i'm kind of coming apart. I throw the next pitch. ball. full count. COACH runs half way into the infield he's so pissed off screaming. i look over to my best friend today, the gummie guy, and he is hiding his face in his glove. i walk around the mound for a second. no one will make eye contact with me. this kid hasn't moved once. frozen. not one attempt to swing. eyes not even following the ball. hasn't moved once. the crowd is now dead silent. i walk up to the mound, go through my windup, and throw a fast ball that as god as my witness time stood still for. we all watched in horror as it was going straight to his head. i hit him dead in his helmet. the entire place gasped. but the ball went straight up into the air. way up in the air. i chased it down and caught it!!!!!!!!! and shouted YOU'RE OUT!!!!!!! at this point i'm right next to home plate. a foot from this kid who hasn't moved still despite the ball hitting him in the head. next to him is the ump. "take first base son." by this time our coach is next to us and in the weakest voice i've heard from a grown man he whispered to me: get off the field.
that was my last time pitching and my last season of baseball. not even big league chew could survive it
I read this as: "Even at 12, I was already a major asshole."
@bradstevens 6th grade was my last year of baseball. i played a few positions and i was also the last pitcher. anyway in those days they had inclusion. maybe they still do i don't know. but it was a big thing then. so the team we were playing had an inclusion kid. today he would have been on a special Olympics or in soccer we call it TOPSoccer team. but then he got put on a team without special needs kids. so this poor kid comes up to the plate. i throw a strike. kid is like a statue. doesn't swing. doesn't even look at the ball coming. frozen in that same spot. what the hell. and kids were mean then. i could hear a little laughter behind me. i throw pitch two. strike. count is 0-2. same drill. kid doesn't move. frozen. doesn't swing. doesn't look at the pitch. doesn't look at the ump. frozen staring straight ahead. body like a statue. it kind of throws me off. so the next pitch i'm a little off and throw a ball. our coach was an insane screamer too. he shouts COME ON SON! GET IT TOGETHER!. i take a moment. throw the next pitch. ball. now we're at 2-2. Coach screams CONCENTRATE!!!!!!!!! COME ON DAMNIT!!!!!!!!!! Batter in what has now been five full minutes hasn't moved. staring straight ahead. not following the ball. his surroundings. just a statue. Friends I can hear behind me in the infield knowing i'm kind of coming apart. I throw the next pitch. ball. full count. COACH runs half way into the infield he's so pissed off screaming. i look over to my best friend today, the gummie guy, and he is hiding his face in his glove. i walk around the mound for a second. no one will make eye contact with me. this kid hasn't moved once. frozen. not one attempt to swing. eyes not even following the ball. hasn't moved once. the crowd is now dead silent. i walk up to the mound, go through my windup, and throw a fast ball that as god as my witness time stood still for. we all watched in horror as it was going straight to his head. i hit him dead in his helmet. the entire place gasped. but the ball went straight up into the air. way up in the air. i chased it down and caught it!!!!!!!!! and shouted YOU'RE OUT!!!!!!! at this point i'm right next to home plate. a foot from this kid who hasn't moved still despite the ball hitting him in the head. next to him is the ump. "take first base son." by this time our coach is next to us and in the weakest voice i've heard from a grown man he whispered to me: get off the field.
that was my last time pitching and my last season of baseball. not even big league chew could survive it
I read this as: "Even at 12, I was already a major asshole."
is murt actually Randy Johnson? It scans.
@larsiu whenever I hear kids shouldn’t specialize and they should play all sports I think of my crew playing baseball. We were so bad. Not one benefit came from it other than stories. Pocket full of big league chew. Batting glove!!!! Man that batting glove felt cool. And riding in the back of my buddy’s dad’s bronco in lawn chairs with the back window down
@larsiu whenever I hear kids shouldn’t specialize and they should play all sports I think of my crew playing baseball. We were so bad. Not one benefit came from it other than stories. Pocket full of big league chew. Batting glove!!!! Man that batting glove felt cool. And riding in the back of my buddy’s dad’s bronco in lawn chairs with the back window down
so, totally worth it. Down with specialization!