In this afternoon’s Seattle adventure, Gary was enlisted to fill in for an unavailable player on Julie’s softball team.
Gary: “I played 3rd base and Julie played 2nd base and we turned a double play!”
Me: “Oh my god, you’re kidding!”
Gary: “Well, the ump said he was safe at 2nd base but trust me, he was out.”
Me, trying not to laugh: “Did you guys at least win?”
Gary: “No, and I got hurt twice.”
Me: “What?! Are you okay? What happened?”
Gary: “I hit the ball and fell flat on my face running to 1st base. I ripped my pants and tore up my knee.”
Me, with literal tears of laughter dripping down my face but only because he started it and was laughing, too: “But you’re okay?”
Gary: “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need some Advil and a bandage. So then, I’m fielding at 3rd base, and the runner on 2nd ran into me trying to reach 3rd and knocked me down. I couldn’t believe it.”
Me, at this point gasping for air laughing: “Again? Again you fell? But you’re fine, right? Right? Because you sound fine. Otherwise I wouldn’t be laughing like this.”
He’s fine.
Maybe you had to be me getting this call to find it hilarious, though now in retrospect I’m like holy hell, he’s 69, maybe he shouldn’t be doing stuff like this anymore.
Nah. We’ve spent the last three years on the sofa. Screw worrying. And anyway, 69 is the new…whatever 😎
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