This weekend went by fast, but hubby and I did manage to enjoy a nice afternoon at Piedmont Park in Atlanta. After sitting by the lake, we strolled over to the field where most of the sporting activities occur. As we sat in the sun, drinking in lots of vitamin D, we enjoyed watching a kickball game. I have to say, it’s been a looooong time since I’ve played kickball. And with good reason too—you know me and my stories. If anyone from my family happens to read my blog today they’ll get a kick out of this oldie-but-goodie true story.
Every year around the 4th of July my whole family would get together to celebrate the holiday and spend the long weekend together. On one of the holiday visits someone—not me—suggested we break into teams and play kickball on the makeshift field—more of a clearing really—behind my brother’s house. Being the competitive people we are, everyone loved the idea and teams were quickly formed. I don’t remember who was on my team, but I remember that my step-grandmother was the referee. Mind you, she wasn’t actually on the field, but she was close enough to see most of what was happening.
As the game got underway, there were a few instances where my oldest brother thought he had tagged someone out, but my step-grandmother overruled him. Standing on the deck, she simply shook her head and yelled, “Safe.”
When my brother protested, my step-grandmother put her hands on her hips and said, “Don’t argue with me.” And that was the end of the discussion. Needless to say, my step-grandmother made a few calls that were, hummm…how shall I say it, questionable, but the game was a blast and we enjoyed the bantering even that much more.
Somewhere around the middle of the game my team took the field. Granted, I was out of shape as all get out, but man I was on fire that afternoon. I was kicking, diving, running, and making some rather spectacular plays, if I may say so myself. And then it happened. Someone kicked the ball right down the first base line and I took off in pursuit of that bad boy. As I ran, I heard the sound of a strange ting, and then I went down. Long story short, I blew not one, but both hamstrings! Playing kickball, for crying out loud. Unbelievable!
For the next several days, following the game, whenever someone asked me how I injured myself all I could do was tell them the stupid kickball story. So not cool.
Have you ever hurt yourself doing something silly?