Tag Archives: baseball

Recounting The Dumbest Injury I Ever Got

We all like showing off scars. It doesn’t matter how big they are. We still use them as a catalyst to tell stories about ourselves. I don’t always get it. It’s just one of those weird things people do to make them seem tougher and more badass than they really are.

It’s not just a man thing, either. Women do this too. They just tend to be more subtle about it.

I have my share of scars from lingering injuries over the years. Each one of them has a story behind it. Some are more painful than others. There are a few I’d rather not share. Instead, I’m going to share a different kind of story about bodily injuries. Specifically, I’m going to tell the story about the dumbest injury I ever got.

It left no badass scar.

It didn’t make me tougher or stronger.

It was just a stupid fluke of an injury that taught me how hilariously frail the human body can be. More than anything else, I hope this story makes you laugh and appreciate the less foolish injuries we endure.

This particular injury occurred when I was playing little league baseball. For a time, it was a spring tradition. My dad would sign me up for little league and we’d build our weeks around it. For the most part, it was great. I loved baseball. I loved playing. I won’t say I was that good, but I certainly wasn’t that bad, either. I had fun, for the most part.

Like with any sport, you’re bound to get a few injuries here and there. I’d endured a few in that time. It was nothing I couldn’t handle. It was nothing that left a scar, either. I got lucky, compared to some of my teammates.

That changed one fateful day at practice. I think I was in the 4th or 5th grade at the time. I wasn’t doing very well that day. I don’t know why. My game was just off. I wasn’t hustling as much as I usual. I was content to just get through practice and prepare for the game.

Then, during fielding drills, the coach hits a ball my way while I’m playing outfield. Rather than glove it, I reach down to pick up the ball so that I can make a play at third base. In doing so, I badly jam my middle finger right against the ball.

It was the flukiest of fluke plays. I reached in and hit the ball with my finger at just the right angle to do some damage. I felt that damage too because I immediately whined about it. I still tried to shake it off, but by the end of practice, my middle finger was noticeably bruised. Part of it also started swelling. By the next day, my finger looked like it got stung by multiple bees.

It hurt like hell. On top of that, it was the same hand I used to write with. That made doing school work more painful than it already was. However, that wasn’t what made the injury so dumb. What truly made it stand out was that, for nearly a week, I could not bend my middle finger.

That meant that, for reasons beyond my control, it looked like I was giving everyone the finger. It was funny at times, but it hurt so much at the time that I don’t remember laughing much. I didn’t need a splint or anything. I just had to wait for it to heal. That was a long wait and there were plenty of embarrassing moments in between, especially at school.

I’m sure my parents remember some of those moments. I complained to them a lot and the best anyone could offer was a bag of ice. It was a miserable time, to say the least. I almost preferred a more serious injury. That would’ve made for a better story to tell. You just can’t tell a great story about picking up a baseball awkwardly and jamming your finger.

It did eventually heal. I did eventually go back to playing little league. I was just a lot more careful when it came to fielding ground balls. I endured more injuries over that time, but none were quite as dumb as that.

If you’ve got a dumber injury you’d like to share, please do so in the comments. Let’s not pretend every injury is epic. We’re all fallible human beings at the end of the day. We’re going to do stupid things and hurt ourselves in stupid ways. The best we can do is laugh about it and learn from it.

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Daily Sexy Musing: On Love and Baseball

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Baseball is often seen as a guy thing. Demographically speaking, it is for the most part. In terms of sex appeal, it’s hardly the first sport that comes to mind. The men aren’t walking around with their shirts off in skin-tight uniforms. There aren’t any scantily clad cheerleaders. That’s to say nothing about the quirky mascots that some teams have.

Those issues aside, I think baseball can be sexy in certain situations. It’s not just some sport guys watch while chugging beer on the couch. It can be like a day at the park, but with bigger crowds and more hot dogs. Having been to my share of baseball games, both as a kid and as an adult, I can attest that there’s a unique social value to the experience.

A ball game is an event and any event can be intimate with the right mentality. A woman, in that instance, doesn’t have to be a hardcore baseball fan. She just has to be happy spending a day with her lover and the guy has be willing to the experience with her. Excitement, no matter where it comes from, is a catalyst for greater passion and baseball can certainly provide that.

With the 2019 baseball season upon us, there are plenty of opportunities to share these experiences for the rest of the summer. Whether it’s at a game or at home, I encourage every couple with at least one sports fan to try it. Hopefully, this baseball-inspired version of my Daily Sexy Musing can inspire you.

The first pitch is thrown.

The first batter swings.

The ballpark erupts.

The game has begun.

Spring has arrived and we’re finally free. Heavy coats and multiple layers are gone. Today, we don more comfortable attire and venture into a warmer, more inviting sun. We are far from alone. Everywhere look, the ballpark is full of those who shared our sentiment.

Sitting side-by-side, we cheer and we laugh. With a cold beer in one hand and a hot dog in the other, we dare to cut loose and celebrate a day away from common drudgery. We’re surrounded by fun, games, and food. Our anxieties melt away. All that matters now is each other and whoever stands at home plate.

Every hit brings excitement.

Every play brings drama.

Every run brings exhilaration.

The rules are simple, but the ultimate goal is not. Through nine innings and twenty-seven outs, both sides have a chance to prove themselves. Only one can come out victorious. There are no ties or draws. One must win and one must lose.

In you, I already feel like I’ve won. Just being there, at the game, with you is a victory of hearts and minds. You show you’re willing to share an experience. I show that I want you to be in that experience. No matter who wins or loses, our love is still stronger. We make each other fee like all stars.

Sometimes, we’ll swing at a bad pitch.

Sometimes, we’ll fail to make a play.

Sometimes, we’ll get a call that goes against us.

Sometimes, we’ll leave runners stranded.

Sometimes, we’ll be outscored.

In the end, every hit counts and every pitch matters. How we play helps determine who we are. With you, on a sunny day at the ballpark, I feel like I’ve already won the World Series. Today, we hit for the cycle. Tonight, we intend to hit a home run.

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Sexy Sunday Thoughts: Opening Day Edition

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This weekend is a glorious weekend for a certain type of sports fans. Baseball, the great American past-time, has returned and for the first time since the days of the Ottoman Empire, the Chicago Cubs are defending world champions. That alone is something to marvel at.

I know it’s an odd combination, a man being a fan of both erotica/romance and sports. I love many kinds of sports. I certainly hope I’ve made my love of football abundantly clear. I also have a soft spot for baseball. One of my favorite summer activities is to come home from a long day of writing erotica/romance, pop open a cold beer, and watch a ballgame. I won’t say it’s as great as sex, but it’s still pretty darn great.

It’s also personal for me. I played baseball as a kid. I also loved playing catch with my dad in the back yard. Baseball is full of all sorts of fond, happy memories for me. That’s why I’m more than happy to dedicate this week’s edition of Sexy Sunday Thoughts to the new baseball season. Here’s to hoping we all hit a home run.


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“A woman with a great butt appeals to many grown men. A woman with great tits appeals to both grown men and infants. Advantage: great tits.”

It’s a debate as old as civilization. Which is sexier, butts or breast? Many heated debates and bar fights have erupted over this debate. Men and women are so fond or proud of both. It may very well be an unwinnable argument.

That said, when it comes down to pure numbers, tits have the edge. A great butt is beautiful and all, but it won’t feed a crying infant. That’s an advantage that even the roundest, sexiest of butts can never match.


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“In retrospect, we’re grateful that our parents had sex to make us. However, we still get queasy when we think about how much they enjoyed it. Does that make us hypocrites?”

It’s another instance where our built-in gag reflex keeps us from appreciating how we came to be. Face it, our parents had to have sex in order for us to exist. Chances are, they probably enjoyed it too. The fact that they enjoyed making us should make us feel proud and loved.

Even so, a part of us still twinges at the idea of our parents enjoying the beautiful act that gave us life. Does that count as hypocrisy? Given the reflexive nature of it all, I’m not sure. I just hope that my parents did enjoy making me. If my stomach hates me for that sentiment, then so be it.


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“Most people tend not to wonder who invented thong underwear. We’re more curious about why it took so damn long in the first place.”

Some inventions aren’t a matter of necessity. Some aren’t even a matter of practicality either. They’re just a natural byproduct of human ingenuity. The rock, the hammer, and the nail certainly qualify as such. I would also put thong underwear in that category too.

For as long as there have been humans, there have been efforts to augment the sexier parts of our bodies. Sometimes it involved fancy gowns. Sometimes it involved cod-pieces. However, it’s easy to imagine someone in any era imagining something like thong underwear.


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“In a literal sense, we treat public nudity the same way we treat spam email. We’re eager to remove it the second we see it.”

I hate spam email. We all do. It deserves to be hated. It’s one of those things we instinctively attack the moment we see it. When it comes to nudity, though, I think those instincts are misguided.

I’ve said before that I’m a fan of nudity. I think the world would be a better place if we allowed and celebrated more nudity. At the moment, though, nudity triggers this instinct in all to be appalled by it. I don’t think that’s healthy or natural. I intend to fight that instinct as best I can with my novels.


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“If money makes certain women horny, then do they consider large alimony checks a form of extended afterglow?”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying all women are gold-diggers looking to plunder a man’s wallet using the full force of draconian marriage/divorce laws. However, there are some women who take that practice to extreme levels.

The prize of those extremes are a fat alimony check from some rich guy who wanted to have sex with a beautiful woman and had the necessary resources to do so. By any measure, that’s not a bad prize. Considering sex was needed to get it, I do wonder how afterglow applies.


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“Men don’t like to think of themselves as whores, but still pride themselves on their ability to sell their skills.”

I find it odd, and a little ironic, that men use the term whore as an insult. However, when it comes to selling their skills and their abilities to the highest bidder, the only difference between them and a classic whore is the absence of boob jobs. When you think about it, being a whore and being successful go hand-in-hand. They both require the same skill. One just requires the exchange of more body fluids.


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“Softcore porn is to adults what Saturday morning cartoons are to kids. In addition, hardcore porn is to adults what classic Disney movies are to kids.”

I loved Saturday morning cartoons as a kid. They were a simple, basic pleasure that put a smile on my face. When I discovered softcore porn on premium cable, I discovered another simple, basic pleasure that gave me a similar smile.

Like many kids, I also enjoyed Disney movies. They always raised the bar for cartoons, story, and drama. In that sense, hardcore porn had a similar effect on me as an adult. It raised the bar for what put a smile on my face. It’s kind of poetic when you think about it.


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“When you think about it, a lesbian gynecologist is the most motivated doctor in all of medicine.”

We’re all motivated when it comes to our jobs. If we’re not, then chances are we won’t keep that job for very long. That’s why it’s important to find a job we’re highly motivated to do and do well.

By that standard, who could possibly be more motivated than a lesbian gynecologist? Seriously, I dare anyone to find a job where the incentives are that personal and that strong.


That’s it for now. Now get out there, buy yourself some peanuts and cracker jacks, and enjoy a ball game. If you’re alone at home, clothes are entirely optional. I think you all know which option I’ll be exercising.? Man

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