No I am not referring to the two American divers from last night who finished 8th and 9th, respectively, in the women’s springboard final. In fact, I am not referring to swimming or scuba or anything to do with water at all – I could only wish. I am referring to the reason I spent the entire day walking like an asshole trying not to bleed through my pants…the same reason I now have Neosporin on my keyboard. I am talking about my dive into 3rd base in yesterday’s softball game. I know what you are thinking…. “Craig, you donkey, you don’t dive in softball, you SLIDE.” Slide you say? I could only wish. Normal people slide.
Normal? I am not normal – my knees, elbows, and lower back could only wish. But I don’t roll like that. How do I roll? I roll aggressively around second base on a blooper-single. Rightfully, I should have pulled up at second base. I usually don’t make running errors because I play so conservative. But who can play conservative when you are 1-for-3 in a game where you have once been a lead-off out and have also been the 3rd out during a rally. Further, your team is down one run and some KNOW-IT-ALL on your team has scowled at you for failing to send a runner from third on a fly out ---which would have tied the game. To my credit, I told the runner to tag up, but he took off too many steps to come back. Two my discredit, I (Craig) was probably whispering “wait, wait, wait” when I (Cecil) should have been screaming “HOLD, HOLD, HOLD – GO!”
But that was Craig. Cecil, my more ambitious alter-ego, was carrying that baggage with him when he rounded second. Yes, I certainly could sense the ball being put back into play. Yes, I heard the defense (Duke University – the fucking Blue Devils) screaming “he turned second!!!” excited and eager to pray on my mistake. But Cecil had decided. Cecil turned the base a stud like Derek Jeter, a gambler like Pete Rose (Pete always took the extra base --- LET HIM INTO THE HALL OF FAME), and a disciple of the always-rational Kevin Gallagher who says he always takes the extra-base in softball because most people can’t make the throw and tag. Irrespective of whatever the basis for my momentary delusion of grandeur I needed to get to third base.
Running, running, panting, holding my hat in place, visualizing – god damn how far is it from second-to-third? The throw, floating, tracking, tracing, stalking, buzzing at my back like a mosquito – no a wasp – I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, but I could sense it. I am close, it is close… what do I do?
The answer seems like a no-brainer, but it wasn’t always. Let’s be honest, I am scared to slide. Most of the time, I am not in the situation – see conservatism, infra. Other times I am justified – I’m sorry, when I play kickball on blacktop, it just ain’t happening. B
ut the last time I had the chance, I let my team down big time. It was sophomore or junior year at Kenyon College. My I.M. team was in the softball championship. We were down big, but in the middle of an awesome rally. Heading for home, I represented the tying run; being tagged out at home, I represented the third out, end of our comeback and I.M. glory. I was tagged out at home standing. (Boo! ) Had I slid (or even dove), we would have tied the game and it would have been up to fate, but my fate was failure, that day, and I forced it onto my team. Never again…
… at least not Sunday. Here comes the ball, buzzing, and I Super-manned that bitch. Had I landed on my stomach, I would not be blogging about this … perhaps I would, but I would have called it a slide; it would have been badass. Instead it was awkward… Instead… I landed on my knees ---both of them --- and skidded into third. Was Cecil safe? Yes! Why? Some say I dove into the path of the ball and it hit me in the back. The third baseman (a fucking Dukie) said I dove into his glove and knocked the ball out of it. I have no idea. All I know is I was laying (lying? Really? I care about this?) on my back (somehow – did I do a twist in the air, ala Jingjing Guo, Chinese Gold Medalist in the springboard final?), in agonizing pain, with my hand on third ---SAFE. The next batter – a single, I limped home, a run scored, high fives. Hardly a hero, but slightly redeemed… I limp proudly, but know I really should learn to slide.
