Baseball Widow

The Sports Widow is on the Injured List... Again

April 17, 2006 7:07 AM | 0 Comments

A Baseball Collides With My Left Eye
Last week, my family enjoyed Spring Break at a lovely place called Wapato Point on Lake Chelan in Washington State. We've been going to this destination for the past five years. It's a particularly great spot for elementary-age children. We have three: Kit, short for Katharine (11), Austin (8) and Caroline (6). Most of the vacation we cater to the whims of this young trio: We swim in a heavily chlorinated pool, chase tennis balls and occasionally make contact with them using a racket, and explore this spectacular region, which was sculpted by glaciers. Last Tuesday, however, we decided to visit Big Pine Winery, one of the local wineries that are cropping up in the area. In order to placate mostly Austin and his unquenchable desire to be active, we gathered up the baseball bat, mitts and ball so that he and his cronies could play in a field on the vineyard while we adults relaxed and sampled wine.

While Austin and I were waiting for my husband Bryan and the two girls to vacate the condo, we decided to play catch in the nearby parking lot. Unfortunately, one of my many qualifications as a Sports Widow is that I am BOTH uncoordinated and accident prone. Because of this, I had the good sense to move our base of operations away from the cars in the parking lot, an act which I am confident preserved many windshields.

Austin is very generous and patient with me, always giving me pointers on the game. Since he's in Little League, he's a good teacher. "Don't be afraid to charge a grounder, Mom." "This is how you throw a 2-seamer." "This is how you throw a fast ball." "This is a change-up." I respond with ridiculous maneuvers that are, in short, LAME, but Austin never gives up on me and remains eternally optimistic. It doesn't help that the mitt is too big and cumbersome for me.

I was just getting in the zone, when the rest of our crew burst out the door. In the instant I took my eye off our game to greet them, I was THWACKED with the ball, a hard ball, right in the right eye. Since I wear glasses, the frames mashed into the socket and fell to the ground. It was a direct hit. The pain was excruciating, but two facts ruled my response. #1) I can't cry in front of Caroline, my 6-year-old, because she identifies with me so much that she becomes really distressed when I exhibit pain. #2) I can't swear in front of my children. So I was reduced to hopping around crazily, clutching my eye, and muttering phrases like "dang that hurt" or "dag nab it." It was very unsatisfying.

Nonetheless, in a demonstration of courage, sheer will and resilience, I applied an ice pack to my eye and headed to the winery. Dang the torpedoes. Who cares if I have a Neanderthal brow ridge and a shiner? A few sips of Kickback Cabernet and some good conversation, and the healing had begun.

Each subsequent day my family monitored the changes in my eye lid pigmentation, which began with the brilliant hues of a sunset and later became the murky colors of a polluted shore. Soon, my injury will be but a faint memory, until... the next time.

Have you had any Sports Widow-related injuries? Are you uncoordinated or accident prone?