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Forget that “for once” in the title block.  My boss is often a valid questioner, one of those common sense guys with wicked sarcasm, which makes him ideal to be my boss.  He is also the one that called the ambulance last Thursday, a stellar move that deserves a thank you for him doing it in a caring fashion, instead of a “hey you over anxious moron, suck it up” fashion.  My boss also has two sons that play on our company softball team, a team that plays on Friday nights, so he is our scorekeeper.

That’s why he asked me a valid question — weren’t you the one who got carted off in an ambulance yesterday?

All of the guys on the team came by my desk Friday morning, concerned and worried.. that I wouldn’t be able to play our double header Friday night.  Come on, Steve, we might be short players if you aren’t there.  It doesn’t take much to convince me. Begging me also feeds my already huge ego.  I would play if I just had a double amputation.  Truth was that I didn’t feel like dirt, just a little wonky (a term found in all medical journals), and though my wife thought I was a bit goofy for wanting to play, I wanted to play.

So I did.  Like a freaking all star.  I probably should have intentionally done bad, but I just couldn’t.  My last at bat, the only out I made in both games, was a line drive shot that made a loud pop as the left fielder caught it in his glove.  There were four plays on the field that got me fist bumps as I came back to the dug out.  My boss looked at me with an eyebrow raised, something I am used to seeing, and asked that valid question along with “did they put steroids in the IV?”.

Of course, I got to my car and with the adrenaline wearing off.  Oh crap.  I didn’t feel good.

My wife has me chained to the couch with instructions that I will not do anything at all today.   Yes, dear.