Filed under: Alabama, Florida, LSU, Tennessee, All That and a Bag of Mail
I'm a social pariah now. Well, maybe I was already, but today confirmed it.
I'm a Big Brother for a fourth grader here in Nashville. As part of my role, I meet with my little brother for an hour or so every week on Thursday afternoons. So I finish the radio show and head over to meet him. For the past month or so, Thursdays have been indoor kickball days. You can imagine how excited I was for this. I'm 31 years old and I get to play indoor kickball in a church gym. That's about 18 years later than I ever thought I'd get to play kickball indoors again.
Inside there are lights that dangle from the ceiling on chains. The lights are covered by shields. If you kick a ball high enough to hit the light, it's an automatic out. But, and this is where things get tempting, one of the other big brothers stepped to the plate in the first inning of our game and laced one off the distant backboard of an indoor basketball goal.
Automatic home run!
I had no idea this was the rule. So the other big brother got to run around the bases really slowly while all the kids applauded him. His little brother gave him a high five at the plate and my little brother turned to me and said, "Wow, he's a really good kicker," all wistful like he'd already surveyed my athleticism and found it lacking.
So on the one hand you're incentivized to go for the home run, and on the other hand, you're incentivized to be an adult and play it safe. Guess which option I chose?
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