If we lose then someone else wins
May. 14th, 2004 10:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
xaaraThat's the attitude I had to keep up today when we were down by over ten in the third inning. One of our pitchers was forced to throw two complete games on two successive days because of some sort of mix-up with medical forms for her replacement. Needless to say, she was dying by the end of the second game, and giving up quite a few walks and base hits.
Today's major disaster: the disappearance of the catching equipment. Yesterday Mom showed up at the game with the car, so I didn't have to take the bus home. I handed my gear (which I'm normally responsible for) to my coach, who was supposed to put it on the bus. Well, it either didn't get on the bus or didn't get off the bus, because when I arrived downstairs at 1400 to leave for the game, a teammate asked, "Where's your gear?"
"I don't know," I said. "I was about to go down to the equipment locker and check."
"We checked," she said. "It's not there."
"What do you mean it's not there? Where else would it be?"
"Well, it's not in the locker. We got everything else out of the locker."
"Oh." (I said a lot of other things besides Oh, but I will abstain from printing them here.)
I raced to the basement and opened the locker, praying that the girl was wrong. But to my dismay, the catching gear sitting in its appointed spot on the top shelf comprised only an old helmet that had been taken out of service and an ancient chest protector. No shin pads at all. Increasingly panicked, I ran to the sports coordinator, who told me that she didn't know where it was either, but thought that Coach said that I had taken it home with me. I was almost in tears by the time I realized that the baseball team probably had a set of shin protectors that I could beg off of my friend, the captain and catcher for the boys.
Naturally, his class was on the third floor, so I took the stairs up there two at a time, stuck my head into his class, and asked to see him. When he joined me out in the hallway, I said, "Please please tell me you have an extra set of shin protectors I can borrow for the game - someone lost ours."
Being the wonderful, excellent, nice, understanding, helpful, intelligent, quick-thinking, and generous person he is, he flew down the stairs to the baseball locker with me, pulled out his shinguards, and handed them to me. "I have another set at our practice field," he explained when I asked if that was his only set.
Thanking him hastily, I collected the equipment, sprinted out the door, and hopped onto the bus, which pulled away from the curb and to our game.
When I later talked to my brother, who plays baseball, I found that the other catcher did not in fact have shinguards at practice. When the coaches asked him about that, he told them he'd forgotten them at home to protect me. I owe him a hug, a huge box of chocolates, and at least four or five physics homework assignments. He's my new hero.
Today's major disaster: the disappearance of the catching equipment. Yesterday Mom showed up at the game with the car, so I didn't have to take the bus home. I handed my gear (which I'm normally responsible for) to my coach, who was supposed to put it on the bus. Well, it either didn't get on the bus or didn't get off the bus, because when I arrived downstairs at 1400 to leave for the game, a teammate asked, "Where's your gear?"
"I don't know," I said. "I was about to go down to the equipment locker and check."
"We checked," she said. "It's not there."
"What do you mean it's not there? Where else would it be?"
"Well, it's not in the locker. We got everything else out of the locker."
"Oh." (I said a lot of other things besides Oh, but I will abstain from printing them here.)
I raced to the basement and opened the locker, praying that the girl was wrong. But to my dismay, the catching gear sitting in its appointed spot on the top shelf comprised only an old helmet that had been taken out of service and an ancient chest protector. No shin pads at all. Increasingly panicked, I ran to the sports coordinator, who told me that she didn't know where it was either, but thought that Coach said that I had taken it home with me. I was almost in tears by the time I realized that the baseball team probably had a set of shin protectors that I could beg off of my friend, the captain and catcher for the boys.
Naturally, his class was on the third floor, so I took the stairs up there two at a time, stuck my head into his class, and asked to see him. When he joined me out in the hallway, I said, "Please please tell me you have an extra set of shin protectors I can borrow for the game - someone lost ours."
Being the wonderful, excellent, nice, understanding, helpful, intelligent, quick-thinking, and generous person he is, he flew down the stairs to the baseball locker with me, pulled out his shinguards, and handed them to me. "I have another set at our practice field," he explained when I asked if that was his only set.
Thanking him hastily, I collected the equipment, sprinted out the door, and hopped onto the bus, which pulled away from the curb and to our game.
When I later talked to my brother, who plays baseball, I found that the other catcher did not in fact have shinguards at practice. When the coaches asked him about that, he told them he'd forgotten them at home to protect me. I owe him a hug, a huge box of chocolates, and at least four or five physics homework assignments. He's my new hero.
