McGlovin

My brother has graciously invited me to join a recreational softball league that starts up in May.  McGlovin is our team name.  Hawaiian organ donors represent!

I’m near certain that he only invited me because they’re short on girls -- but the joke’s on him, as I’m entirely certain that I only joined for the post-game drink specials.

Oh...and for the free league t-shirt, with which I plan to augment my collection of ugly free t-shirts that even poverty-stricken children in remote destitute villages would be embarassed to wear even for the sole purpose of covering oozing bodily lesions.

So last night in a frenzy of excitement over the new league activity, braved the pollen outside to roll to Sports Authority and get me some equipment. Too bad I don’t need an athletic supporter, because they come in some pretty neat colors.

At the baseball/softball section of the store, got into an unexpected tussle for shelf-viewing space with some fat kid who was trying on all the adult-sized, rather than youth-sized, softball gloves.

Though I should have just dismissed him with a simple “Get outta here, your hand ain’t that fat… YET,” I settled for tossing the ball to my glove-buying partner so that it sailed dangerously close to the kid’s head.
He didn’t get the point at all, or else refused to be intimidated, and stood his ground. What is wrong with children these days?

At last I managed to pick a glove that was suitably sized and not ridiculously overpriced.  Shockingly, there were some gloves that cost in the range of several hundreds of dollars! When I join a beer league to play some softball, my equipment shouldn’t cost as much as my bar tab.


This is the model I settled on.  Isn't it a beaut?  I hope I don't embarass it with my sure-to-be-sorry fielding.