Good day folks. I have an introduction to make. Buckle that seat belt, because I’m going to take you on a ride so mildly exciting you may bite your tongue. And no one likes a swollen tongue (because then you bite it again and it’s a whole big thing where you keep threatening yourself while never actually following through, making you both a liar and a coward). Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
The round-headed chub ball up top delicately shoving a pile of spaghetti into his face? You guessed it my friend — that’s me. I still retain a good portion of that once adorable, now inconvenient chunk that I used to have. And to be frank, I still love spaghetti…I won’t apologize and I will not be shamed for it.
I learned my ABC’s and my multiplication tables (but clearly not about how to post images adequately in WordPress…I’ll get better) in the heart of Indianapolis, a city known to most outside of Indiana as: “why don’t you leave?” — but one that actually is full of culture, music, and… food. Lots of food. Needless to say, it is a place very near and dear to my heart.
My love for basketball developed the earliest, though I shortly took up baseball as well. As I matured into my teenage years, where I spent most of my time playing sports and being unable to muster the bravery to make eye contact with girls, it became evident that my greatest strength as an athlete was the ability to throw objects at a greater rate of speed than most of my peers, which eventually pushed my focus to baseball and pitching.
I was able to have a little success pitching in high school, which came with fame and accolades. My dominance was featured in the local newspaper no less than slightly under half a dozen times.
I was on top of the newspapers, and some would say the world. There was no doubt I wanted to play baseball in college, and when it came time to decide a region of the United States to play in, I didn’t hesitate–I chose the Midwest and the University of Dayton, where you get to play games in the snow in April (and even May sometimes!). I immediately stepped into the pitching rotation and made an impact. ERA circled…
…and then carried the momentum of my early success into the next season…
…which led directly to a pleasant case of Tommy John surgery. It was a trying time, but please don’t cry for me- save your tears for the endangered whales and rhinos.
A small little major invasive elbow surgery was only setting up a minor setback for a major comeback (please credit Pardon My Take). A little rehab to get my super-ligament to all geared up and the sky was my limit.
I knew the redemption tour was going to look something like this:
Boy oh boy was it a disappointment when it looked much more like this:
Not many of these ended with the ball falling into my teammates’ gloves, but rather a hollow thud off the outfield wall or the shed 10 yards behind it. Was this reflected in my final stat sheet? You betcha.
I waited for the scouts to call, and I was devastated to find out that a 22-year-old college pitcher with an ERA the size of the sun and a mid-80s fastball that 8-hitters feasted on was no longer in demand like it used to be.
Fast forward eight years later, and I’ve shifted my focus instead to sports viewership and the finance world, and life ain’t so bad without the thrill of playing sports anymore (though I do like to keep my infield skills sharp in the kickball field. WATCH THE BUNT!).
Thanks for the three of you (high estimate?) that took the time to read this. I love the NBA (Go Pacers), the NFL (Go Colts), and the MLB (Go Braves), and I imagine my time will be split between the three as I figure out what I am good at writing about and what I suck at writing about. But I do look forward to finding out.
And wouldn’t you know it, I bit my damn tongue. I’m going to go clean the blood off my lips. See you next time.