It's hard to believe that at one point my dad wanted me to play sports. He thought it would be good for me to do things that 'normal' boys do. So with that in mind, he decided we would take a day and play baseball. The thought terrified me, I never played sports unless I was at school and they forced me to. Even then I found ways to get out of most of the time. How would I get out of this? The day came and there was no way out of it. Damn.
Weather wise the day was perfect; A perfect day to be outside reading. Suddenly dad proudly produced this ugly brown glove, and this white thing with red stitching. He explained to me that the brown thing was a glove and the white thing was a baseball. What in the world am I suppose to do with this? I'm pretty sure every boy wonders that the first time their father tries to introduce them to the world of baseball, well maybe all the gay boys at least.
Walking out to the field right outside of our house, my stomach began to do flips. All my life I had avoided this by being smart, reading, and generally being surly towards my dad. Of course all that hard work was about to be undone, we were actually going to do this. Sighing I went ahead and started getting ready to play baseball.
It started out innocently enough, just tossing the ball back and forth to one another. This is easy I thought to myself. If this was all there was to it, then why do those men make millions upon millions of dollars doing this I wondered. Then as my mind wandered, probably to how hot baseball players are it happened.
The ball hit my face. Right square on my beautiful pink lips. The pain seared, and I felt something dribble down my face. Now was not the time to be drooling over Brian Austin Green I told myself. Then I wiped my face and noticed that it was a red, thick liquid. I was bleeding!! I felt myself pale and my dad came over and asked if I was alright. I wanted to scream I was bleeding of course I wasn't alright. He took me home and put ice on my lip. He explained to my mom what happened and they both beamed at me as if I had cured cancer.
"Next week, hockey!" My dad announced proudly. Curiously that never happened, I suddenly had a ton of homework to do.
Weather wise the day was perfect; A perfect day to be outside reading. Suddenly dad proudly produced this ugly brown glove, and this white thing with red stitching. He explained to me that the brown thing was a glove and the white thing was a baseball. What in the world am I suppose to do with this? I'm pretty sure every boy wonders that the first time their father tries to introduce them to the world of baseball, well maybe all the gay boys at least.
Walking out to the field right outside of our house, my stomach began to do flips. All my life I had avoided this by being smart, reading, and generally being surly towards my dad. Of course all that hard work was about to be undone, we were actually going to do this. Sighing I went ahead and started getting ready to play baseball.
It started out innocently enough, just tossing the ball back and forth to one another. This is easy I thought to myself. If this was all there was to it, then why do those men make millions upon millions of dollars doing this I wondered. Then as my mind wandered, probably to how hot baseball players are it happened.
The ball hit my face. Right square on my beautiful pink lips. The pain seared, and I felt something dribble down my face. Now was not the time to be drooling over Brian Austin Green I told myself. Then I wiped my face and noticed that it was a red, thick liquid. I was bleeding!! I felt myself pale and my dad came over and asked if I was alright. I wanted to scream I was bleeding of course I wasn't alright. He took me home and put ice on my lip. He explained to my mom what happened and they both beamed at me as if I had cured cancer.
"Next week, hockey!" My dad announced proudly. Curiously that never happened, I suddenly had a ton of homework to do.
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