Striking Out

Long time readers of this blog will remember my previous unemployment bringing about a renaissance of hand eye coordination. I started filling endless Ohio hours with trips to the batting cage. It got so bad that I would conduct phone interviews from the parking lot of the cage...because having just blasted a few shots over the pitching machine seemed to relax me and make the interview seem more pleasant. Well, having watched a lot of baseball in the past few weeks and weekends I've again felt the itch to swing a bat. There is a batting cage just South of SafeCo Field (where the Mariners play), and off I went,today in hopes of further glory. Turns out getting directions to the actual location is really a good choice. I set out with a vague notion (knowing 3 of the four streets I needed to take to get there). While three out of four sounds bad, at least it was in order, meaning I knew everywhere but what street the gym was on. I was pretty sure it started with an H. There were three H streets in a row, each of which backed onto a train depot. None of which seemed to be secreting away a batting cage. Without taking a swing, I'd struck out.

Not wishing to be denied the mind numbing joy of bashing a ball meaninglessly with a stick. I went in search of a driving range. This I found with relative ease. I paid my 9 dollars for the large bucket (104 balls). Why they dispense balls in multiples of 17 I don't know, but I overestimated the durability of my delicate hands. Turns out 104 balls, was about 65 too many. By the end I was swinging the club, dutifully, with just one hand. The other hand, my left, was open and bleeding. For loyal readers and any friends I have out there, you'll recognize this as the traditional pattern for Aaron. Remarkably poor judgement w/r/t to stopping sports. Turns out I can just destroy a two iron, up until the point where the skin on my fingers and left palm begins to puff and separate from my hand. At that point, my prowess...small though it may be, diminisses rapidly. Funny that.

UPDATE: I checked the date of last year's batting cage post...almost one year ago exactly. Maybe there is something about the 4th monday in April that stirs a man's appetite for blisters and batted balls.