It was that time of the year again. A time where people united for one night to dress up in team spirit, eat greasy american fare, wear over sized jerseys, and turn into neanderthals. All of this in the name of one special day, “Superbowl Sunday!” For me, I look forward to the excuse of eating till my gut explodes and laughing at commercials in my candy bar decorated sweat pants. Now you’re probably wondering why I have a picture related to baseball while talking about football. Well each year when Superbowl rolls around I have a flashback to a time where I myself tried joining the ranks of other athletic friends of mine. As a kid I grew up around the beach and loved being in the water, so around six years old I joined Swim Florida. It was something I really enjoyed especially since I hated the heat and by playing a sport that involved water, I never had to worry about sweating or heat strokes.However, when swim season was out my parents decided it would be a good idea for me to try T-ball. I wasn’t sure about it but I figured I would give it a try. I mean it was just a bunch of kids playing a “pee wee” version of baseball. Right? Wrong.
There I was, sitting in the blistering sun, in the outfield, with a large catchers mitt on my hand and sweat dripping down my back and into my underwear. Yea, not a pretty picture is it? In my head I kept thinking, what it would feel like to be eating a big bowl of pasta, in an air conditioned room, instead of out here waiting for some ball to drop from the sky. At one point I was even playing with my shirt and rolling it up to my chin, exposing my gut, as a means to cool down. Again, not the star athlete my parents would have pictured. However, I didn’t want to be the kid who quit so I tried to stick it out. Then without warning, while playing with my shirt, I heard screaming coming from the bleachers and looked up. I had no clue what was going on until I heard a loud thump and noticed a ball land a few feet from me. I “jogged” over to it, obviously in no hurry, and threw it somewhere close to where most of the players were. At this point I knew this would be my last day of T-ball but not without me embarrassing myself one more time. The game seemed so long and once again I was stuck in the outfield and boy was I hungry. My mind kept thinking of ways to get out of the game and somewhere with food. It was at this moment that I looked to the bleachers and yelled, “Mom! Dad! Can I go now and get something to eat!” Yes, you read that right, I screamed across a field during a game asking about food. The whole field went quiet and my parents had to do the walk of shame and claim the chubby outfielder. Needless to say, this was the last time my parents signed me up for anything. Although, there was an important lesson to be learned, never stand between a kid and his love of food!