Going ... going ...

3.3.2017

I already told a couple people this story, but thinking about it still makes me laugh, so here ya go.

When you're a parent and you enroll your kid in a program, say, SCHOOL, or something, you're expected to devote some of your time to that program.  So at school, you're asked to volunteer to help the various fundraising events, facility beautification events, traffic management shifts (pickup and drop off times) and the like.  They keep track of when you're there.  Spooky.

Another program that wants your time are the various sports programs you enroll Junior into.  Soccer wants you to be a ref or a line judge.  Baseball wants snack bar duty and field maintenance.  We were recently solicited to turn out for field repair and maintenance prior to the start of the Spring season.
So I went over to the fields a couple Saturdays ago.

Since I've done this "volunteer" drill before, I figured it would either be well-run, with someone knowing what specific tasks were necessary, have the appropriate tools to accomplish those tasks and set the appropriate number of people to do the tasks.  That or there wouldn't be anyone in charge.  Someone might know what was needed to be done.  There might be tools. 

I drove once around the area and saw no one, but there was a game in progress, so there were cars and people.  There was some activity in the batting cage.  Also, over on the peewee field, there was a guy throwing soft pitches to a couple of really little kids.  I didn't see anyone working anywhere.

So I was about to bag it when I saw that the activity I noticed a the batting cage included someone on a ladder, and knowing that ladders usually don't belong in batting cages, I went over to the guys there.  They were there for field maintenance and they didn't expect anyone else, so they were surprised to see me.  I told them I was at their disposal for a bit and they asked me to fill in gopher holes in the peewee field's outfield.  They directed me to a truck full of dirt, some shovels and a wheel barrow.  So I filled the barrow, wheeled it over to the field and started filling gopher holes.  I filled them all the way to the fence line, because this was peewee baseball, and I saw what happens in peewee baseball:  Someone hits the ball off the tee and it goes past the pitcher, through the infield, is missed by the outfielders and rolls all the way to the fence.  The entire team is usually in pursuit of the ball.  In other words, I know the whole field is used.

So I'm filling holes and some guy walks up and says he's there to help.  I say great, and indicate that I started at the first base line and was working my way left.  I had somehow managed to get between the handles of the wheel barrow and moved to give the guy room to fill the bucket he brought with the dirt in the barrow when I moved too far and tripped myself with the barrow's handles.

My momentum was pulling me over the handle and my shin really scraped along it before I kinda popped out and over it, and, very off balance and trying not to biff, gave up and went down, ass over teakettle.

I laid there, having just performed a total header in front of a perfect stranger.  I said aloud, "Jesus!"

The dude asked if I was okay and I said yeah.  Wasn't that graceful?  And he said, and remembering what he said is what still makes me laugh, "Well you rolled out of it nicely."


Tonight - Pop's
** CASH ONLY ** 


bye-ee!
whrr ... clik!