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when i found out that there was a softball league at my place of work; i could not have been any more excited. i live for playing in the dirt. so call me a boy about it…i dont care. my third game is tonight (would be fourth but we are already facing rain-outs)

so far i have a skinned up knee and i walked through a thorn bush. minor infections from never washing the sand out of my open wounds – and dont lie to yourself, picking out the infection like youre 6 is way more fun than having a nice clean cut that is cleaned out daily with peroxide and neosporin. BORING!

the most epic part of an adult softball league is the presence of beer. beer league; its a real thing. in all of its glory there are dirt covered beer cans resting in place of water jugs. does this lend a hand to the cuts and bruises that i have laready encountered? most likely, but what type of fun can you really have unless there are a few battle scars to go with a good story.

it is fun being tiny with a napoleon complex. getting up to bat and being able to hit the ball and run (quite quickly still, may i add). i can catch line drives and fly balls; and i actually scared one of my captains with my ability to actually throw the ball…and not just hard, but properly. a surprising delivery to this 35 year old man with a notion that i was going to pick dandelions in the outfield (right field too…)

now while it is still very soon in the season, i am awaiting my pitching debut (pray for a sunny day when both pitchers are on vacation!), i anticipate more injuries and a gut full of beers to the extent that at least one game i will not be able to run in a straight line.

quarter life crisis started a year ago, and accepting this adult hood and participating in some of the advantages it proposes helps. letting loose and keeping it real with a luke warm bud light really did ever feel this good.

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