I have two fantastic children.
The best housemates money can buy (even though I didn't buy them).
A stable income (albeit a modest one).
A reliable car (keeping me reliably poor).
Good family.
A charming personality.
And a look on my face that usually means I just got away with something.
But one thing has always escaped me. Until Friday. It took 12 years of city league softball, more than 250 games, and over 1000 at-bats. But it finally happened. My little body took a slowly pitched, over-sized, yellow-green softball and put it over the fence in right center field for a home run. I was always told, in sports, when you make a great play act like you've been there before. Like you've done it a million times. Well, there was not a soul at the park that night that would have thought I did this all the time. As I ran toward first base I opened my arms and looked to my teammates in the dugout (there weren't that many cuz the bases were loaded at the time of the hit) and screamed, "Can you believe it?!" As I hit second base I did my honorary Kirk Gibson fist pump (I had always dreamed of the day when I could do that). Third base was greeted with a full 360° spin and cheer. And as I headed to home plate even the umpire came forward to high five me. Once I safely arrived in the arms of my teammates I had a hug for all the guys and a kiss for each girl. I was given the ball I hit once it had been recovered but since we only had the one, they had to use it to keep playing the game.
So what now, you ask? I'd go to Vegas but I already know how my luck is there. Maybe a lottery ticket? Maybe I'll explain this to my boss. Could be time for a raise. I am a home run hitter now!
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