Last night ended the dream season. I especially made it happen. While we did beat our Nemesis Hit Shoppe, by a whopping 1,000 runs, we moved on to the Championship game and lost by one run. I of course did my part by grounding out to the pitcher to end the game. Good thing I didn't have a mother or girlfriend or uncle or father or brother or sister or token friend in the stands to witness my utter failure. Quick memory, we will be back. And yes, I struck out looking in the first game to join James for the strike out race. I told my mother, and I have been disowned.
Also, since I am now 25 years old, and my knees, back, hammy, quad, ankle, arm, neck, shoulders whole body all hurts, I have realized my dreams of playing catch with my son while he grows up are over. Instead I will buy him a pitching machine, and just launch the balls at him.
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