To: Rambi who wrote (17380 ) 2/5/1999 9:13:00 AM From: DScottD Respond to of 71178
At preschool yesterday, Stephen made this little Valentine's Day hat out of red and pink construction paper. It had two pipe cleaners with little red hearts taped on sticking up on either side, like those deely-bops that were so popular 15 years ago or so. Stephen's teacher said, "Stephen, why don't you try it on and look in the mirror and see how it looks." Stephen does just that and exclaims, "Sheesh! I guess this is the last time I'll be wearing that thing." Well, God never meant for me to be on a ballfield at Spring Training. Unless it was to take pictures or something. I was a fair player in my youth, but my lack of speed and semi-clumsiness in the field doomed me to being a catcher. I could hit pretty well though. And once I saved a game when I threw a guy out at the plate from right field. But my career ended abruptly at 16 when I tore up my knee when my spikes got caught on the edge of home plate as I was turning around to coach the runner behind me after scoring a run. I tried to play a few days later and my knee collapsed while I was taking batting practice. Turned out that I had torn cartilage and a torn ligament in my left knee, which, of course wasn't actually diagnosed until several months later. The doctor kept saying it might heal itself, yadda yadda yadda. I had surgery on January 21, 1977 and saw the first two installments of Roots on the TV in my hospital room. What I remember most is the physical therapist joking about the cutting of the fotos during the manhood ritual. Anyway, I was in a hip to ankle cast bent at the knee for 8 weeks in the middle of winter. Like an idiot, I asked my doctor while my mother was in the room if I would be able to play football the next fall and he said I probably could but if I got hit the wrong way it could do permanent damage. Mom heard that and said no football for you. Of course, if it had happened today, I would have had arthroscopic surgery and been back in business no worse for the wear in a few weeks. C'est la vie.