After more than a few misgivings, I feel a need to clear the air a bit. Women, passion does not necessarily constitute love. Contrary to popular belief, all men do not cotton to beast f*cks all the time. Passion heightens the enjoyment for both partners, adds a little romance, but should not be mistaken to mean something it doesn't. Remember love is something you do, not something you feel. Please keep this in mind when 275 lbs of twisted steel and sex appeal rocks your world...
Now to address my commitment phobia. I've used an analogy involving my favorite sport...though not very successfully... to try and explain to a certain few...OK, a couple. Well, one at least... that while I may enjoy greatly a little healthy female companionship, my longest relationship since my divorce has lasted only four months.
We were facing one of the best pitchers in the state. College recruiters and pro scouts were dotted throughout the stands. This guy had a major league fastball, and I had just watched him blow away two of my teammates on six straight pitches. But I wasn't without a little talent myself and knew if I geared up a bit, I could turn that seed around. I called time, got comfortable in the box, and gave Mr., Baseball a little smirk. I kept reminding myself.âQuick hands. Out in front." He started into his wind-up; I shifted back in my stance, chomping at the bit for that first fastball. The pitch, I froze. It was an off-speed pitch. A curve. My favorite pitch to hit. Totally unexpected. Spinning across the plate for a strike. Her name? Ginger. It took a while to recover, but in the end, all I could do was tip my hat and get back in the box. Count of 0 and 1 and a newfound respect with a little spurt of confidence as well. Mr. Baseball thought enough of me to start me off with a breaking ball. Now bring the heat. The wind-up, the pitch. Another breaking ball, but this time he hung it. I stayed back, made major contact. A long fly ball to left, plenty of distance but hooking foul. The first time I caught my wife, Sally, cheating. Major disappointment. I shook my head, knowing I had pulled the trigger to quick. I shook it off and stepped back in the box, not quite as confident. I spread out a bit, shortened up on the bat, looking to protect now more than anything else. But that fastball was still in my mind. Surely after I sent his last offering over the wall, Mr. Baseball wouldn't fool around with anything off-speed. 0 and 2. The fastball. It's got to be. Into the wind-up, the pitch. Right down the middle. I'm actually salivating at the thought. I start my swing. The pitch starts moving outside. Another breaking ball, the third straight. I'm way out on my front foot, but somehow I'm able to make contact. I foul it into the catcher's mitt but he's unable to hold on. Wife cheats again. Divorce and I let her take the kids. Count still 0 and 2, but I'm totally lost. I've been fooled on all three pitches. Confidence shattered, I hesitate to get in the box. There's no way I can handle his fastball if I have to look for the curve as well. If I look for the curve, he'll blow the fastball, the pitch I've been looking for all along, right by me, and I'm out. If he throws the curve, I'll be out in front. The best I could hope for is a weak ground ball to third or short. I'm still out. So, that's where I am. Outside the box. Counts 0 and 2. Not knowing what to expect, but confident that I won't strike out if I don't get back in...
"You can discover what your enemy fears most by observing the means he uses to frighten you."
-- Eric Hoffer
Pitchers and catchers report in, what, two weeks?
Yippee! Baseball is here.
And my advice... look for another breaking ball.
Posted by: MojoMark on Jan 28, 04 | 10:45 pm
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