Tuesday, October 14, 2014

Funniest Childhood Memory

I hate to admit it, but I have very little memory of my childhood. The number of times that my mother says something about my childhood and I look at her confused is almost embarrassing. I should remember these things. But I don't. My bad. Sorry mom. I didn't mean to disappoint you.

So instead of rattling off a story I only know because my mother has told me it a million times, I figure I should do something that I actually remember living through. Which brings me to my softball years, which was most of my life, until I quit.

#TBT to the glory days of the Kennesaw Xpress. Always reppin' the red and black. #GoDawgs

I quit playing softball after my 7th grade year because for some strange reason, I decided I was going to be a cheerleader again... All the ragrets. But that's beside the point.

During my final softball season, I was having some strange allergy issues. And dealing with that while playing catcher on a lovely dusty dirt field often led to some strange circumstances. Like the outrageously terribly timed nose-bleeds.

So I'll set the scene for you:
It's the final tournament of the season. Double elimination. We've already lost one game. We are losing this one. It could be the last game of my softball life as I know it. 

After getting on base my last at bat and scoring, I come into the dugout to get ready for the next inning. Right as I'm about to head to the outfield (because I'm apparently the only one on the team that can catch a fly ball, which is clearly a vital skill in this moment), my nose starts bleeding. We're talking fountain status here.

This would clearly hinder my ability to play any sort of sport. And it's illegal to be bleeding all over the place during this game. So, I'm stuck in the dugout. My father then proceeds to scream at me... as if I have some sort of control here. Like I can tell my nose to stop, but I'm not because I don't feel like it. (I'll pause here to remind you that this is the same father whose catch phase is "It is what it is.") I digress.

I start crying. Still bleeding. Then we lose. And I cry some more. My days of being a super star softball player are over. But the good news is, at this point I've stopped bleeding.

So that's the tragic story of the end of my softball career. All the blood. God bless.

Looking back it's hilarious now. At the time, not so much. Perspective is all that matters though, right?

RIP to my softball days. And RIP to the nose bleed days as well.

Helene in Between Blogtober

Anyone else have a tragic, yet hilarious childhood memory to share? No? Just me. Cool.

xoxo, jgp

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