Well, I haven't been doing too well on the updating front have I? Well, I have an excuse. I almost died. Actually, it's not as bad as it sounds, but I will admit that death was a possible option had I waited much longer. I was only at the office for 3 days last week and I didn't really have time to update, so...sorry. Besides, I doubt you all really missed the 'Bear anyway.

If you recall, in this entry I mentioned that my right leg was hurting and was swollen. Well, turns out that I had a possible blood clot due to sitting too long at work the Friday before. It was made worse by the fact that the leg of my jeans was creased and pressing against my leg. The 'Bear is actually one lucky ursine. I went walking around the mall with it hurting and wasn't really taking much care of it. If it had been a blood clot (which it wasn't, thankfully), it could have moved into my brain and caused an aneurism, or moved into my heart and caused a heart attack. Either one could have been fatal. But, like I said, the 'Bear was lucky.

Wednesday, at the urging of a doctor friend of mine, I went to the emergency room and got checked out. Turns out I had a Superficial Thrombophlebitis, or an inflamed, irritated vein near the surface of the skin. It swelled and became very tender all along the course of the vein. I was put on a regimen of antibiotics, pain meds, and warm compresses and after a day or two, the swelling went down and things got back to normal...sort of. I still walk a little stiffly, but I don't limp and the pain is actually bearable now. So, that's one of the reasons the 'Bear hasn't updated for about a week. The other is that I'm just really fuckin' lazy. Go figure.

Hey, did you all know that you're in the presence of a celebrity? No, not Uncle Bob dammit. Me! That's right. Da 'Bear is a record holder. I found out about it when I went back to my hometown for the football alumni reunion. The 'Bear holds the record for running into the most immovable sports related objects. That's right. Your old buddy 'Bear is an imbecile. Actually, it's all in fun, but it's all true as well.

My sophomore year in high school was the beginning of it all. At the beginning of football practice, we used to do drills to loosen up. We'd get into about 6 lines and do high stepping drills and form running, stuff like that. One of these drills was the "motion" drill. Now, since we were a small school with a small team (number-wise) we had to play both offense and defense and our coaches were always trying to improve our ability to react. They wanted us to be so finely tuned that on defense we would react to any type of movement, that way, we could get off the ball faster and have a more effective defense. The way this drill worked was like this. Coach Ramsey, the lineman coach, would stand in the middle of the six lines and the first man in each line would take a step or two out and then turn around to face him, hunched over, ready to start running backwards. Coach would stand a little hunched over (kind of like a quarterback), his hands clasped in front of him and would not move. He'd stay like this sometimes for a second or two, sometimes for ten or twenty. Then all of a sudden, when everyone is starting to relax he would move suddenly. The six guys in front would start running backwards as fast as they could, still watching the coach. After they ran about 10 yards or so, he would pretend he's throwing a pass, either left or right, at which point, the six running backwards would turn in that direction and sprint the rest of the way. This took up about 30-40 yards. This continued until everyone had gone and then we'd go back the other way.

This day was kind of a lax day. I remember we were practicing in "lights", which meant that we wore helmets and shoulder pads, but we didn't have to wear our padded pants. We weren't tackling or hitting really hard. We usually practiced like this the day before a game, or if it was Monday (the JV had a game and didn't practice so the Varsity got to take it easy). Anyway, I remember it was my turn for the drill, so I get up and turn to face the coach. I'm ready, I'm gonna fly, let's do it! The coach raises his hands to signal us to go and I take off running backwards. I haven't gone 5 steps when he points to the right. Just as I'm making my turn and getting ready to sprint. *BOOOONNNNNNGGGGGGG* Something stops me dead in my tracks and almost knocks me out. I never really lost consciousness, but I was disoriented. As my vision starts to clear and I begin to notice my surroundings I see Coach Burke standing over me asking if I'm ok and all the other players in a circle. And, I notice what it was I ran into, looming up over everyone. Yes, you guessed it, I ran into the goal post. You know, that big "Y" shaped thing they have at each end of a football field? That. I ran right into it. I stand up, clear the cobwebs and go back to practice. What was worse was that the post was white. It was painted with this flat, powdery paint, so of course, up the inside of both legs and both arms I had big white streaks. It was a source of humor even two years later when I graduated.

Luckily, the other thing I ran into was a bit more forgiving. That same year, I was on the baseball team and we were practicing at the local baseball field. The coach wanted to work with the outfielders so he put two guys in each outfield position (right, center, and left). I was in left field with Dwayne Davis. He started at that position, I filled in there for Varsity and played there on the JV team. Anyway, the coach keeps telling us that he's going to make us work. He's not going to hit the ball right to us. He tells Davis that he's up and then whacks a high fly ball and yells "Get on your horse, Davis!" Which is coach talk for "Move your ass!" Even though he hit the ball high, he hit it very very short. In a regular situation, like a game, one of the infielders (short stop or 3rd base) would get it, but since it was just us, Dwayne had to haul the mail and dive for it. He caught it too. Very good catch. Then the coach yells "Icebear! You're up!" and *whack* sends up another fly ball.

Now, I'm expecting it to fall short, much like Dwayne's so I start running in, then I did a smart thing. I look up. No, this puppy's going deeeeep. I immediately dig in, almost twist my ankle and start sprinting for the fences, my eye on the ball the whole time. See my mistake yet? Just as I'm jumping up, putting my glove up for the ball, I hear Dwayne yell "Look out for the..." *WHAM!* "fence!" After what felt like two or three minutes, but I'm told was less than a second, I rebound off the fence and fall face first into the grass. As I roll over, the coach comes running up, as well as the other outfielders to see if I'm ok. I slowly sit up and watch as the fence wobbles. It travels around the field like waves on an ocean. The coach asks me how many fingers I see, and after giving him the correct number (or close to it, I don't recall) he tells me to get up and get my glove. Turns out, I lost it over the fence when I hit it. Great.

So, as I walk to the opening in the side of the field, they go back the drill we were doing. Taking my time, collecting my thoughts, I turn the corner in the fence and see my glove laying about 20 feet away. As I head towards it I start looking for the ball. Unfortunately, there's a playground on the other side of the fence and down the hill so the ball could be anywhere. After looking for a few minutes and not finding the ball, I decide to go ahead and get my glove and then look for the ball. I pick up my glove, still scanning for a small, round, white object when lo and behold, what falls out of my glove? That's right. I caught the fucker! Of course, no one on the field believed me, but I know the truth. Once I got my glove, I returned to my spot on the field and when I had a moment, I surveyed the damage I had done. The fence is about 6 to 6½ feet tall, which is taller than me, but I jumped for the ball and my head hit the horizontal bar direct, about 2 feet from one of the vertical poles. There was a nice, big bend in the bar at that spot. The metal ring at the top of the vertical pole, the one the horizontal pole passes through, was broken on the back side, and the metal wires that attach the actual chain-link fence to the poles were snapped. There were about 6 in all that were broken. What did I get out of it? An adrenaline rush and some grass stains. Didn't even get a lump. Go figure.

By the time I graduated from high school, I had played on the first football team to have a perfect regular season, we went to the final-four of the state playoffs, I was All-Conference, All-Area, and All-District, but what am I remembered for the most? Yup, running into the goal post in football and the fence in baseball. Oh well, at least people smile when they remember it. In fact, at the alumni game, I was joking with all the coaches and pointing to the large pad that now surrounds the goal posts. I say, "Heh, it took me running into the damn thing for them to realize that it needed a pad, eh?" Everyone got a laugh out of it. I like making people laugh, so it's a good thing.

Oh well, that's my update for now. I'll try to be more regular now that I'm back to about 85% health-wise. Plus, if I get to work from home, I'm sure I'll update more. We'll just have to wait and see. So, my little cubbies, take care of yourselves and come back and see me. I'll try to have something new for you to see. Till next time why don't you sign my guestbook or sign my analyzer.

Icebear

 

 

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