You ever have those stretches where you have stuff to talk about, but it's not interesting? Right now I feel like I have bits and pieces to say but they're not cohesive, not well-fleshed, not something that'd make you want to keep reading. Doesn't bode well for a young blog, does it?
I was thinking tonight about the Cubs player, Tyler Colvin, that was impaled by a broken bat this weekend. What a terrifying freak accident - as he was running from third to home, the batter's bat shattered and a giant shard flew out and speared Colvin in the chest. I'll just let you ruminate on that horror a minute. He's going to be okay - a few days in the hospital, a chest tube to make sure a lung doesn't collapse - but the thought of what could have been - a heart, a throat, an eye - sickens me.
It reminds me of last year when a Giants pitcher got beaned in the head with a ball coming off a bat - and just dropped the the ground. The whole stadium went silent in horror as the action stopped and doctors attended to the pitcher. I still remember the batter responsible crouching at first base, dropping tears into the dust as players from both teams came over to comfort him. The pitcher ultimately sustained a few hairline fractures, but was able to return to the game.
And this is where I'm supposed to have a point, right? I'm supposed to have an opinion on the maple bat debate - which I don't, because I only watch baseball for fun - I'm not super-educated about it like Hubs is. Or I'm supposed to rail against the danger in major league baseball, which I won't, because if I'm going to rail against injuries in any sport, it's going to be the destructive insanity that is professional football.
I just remember these moments so vividly, I wanted to share.