My Nerts Hurts

Monday night was one of the more frustrating athletic experiences I've had as of late. We lost 14-2 in slow-pitch softball to the Oregonian. 2 fucking runs in slow-pitch softball. Yikes. There are lots of excuses, which I'll list, but ultimately, we just stunk it up.

OFFICIAL LIST OF EXCUSES:
1. The sun was setting, and was in our eyes for the first two innings at bat. The sun set in between the top and bottom of the 2nd, so the other team only had to deal with it for one inning.

2. The umpire was terrible. She missed an out at second base that we recorded, and at one point lost track of a runner for the other team, allowing her to score after she (the ump) had already called timeout. She also had a terrible and inconsistent strike zone.

3. We made like, five dozen errors. I actually fielded my position well, I think. It was the first time all year I didn't make an error at shortstop.

4. We have a contagiously bad attitude. When we start messing up, we don't bounce back.

5. A lot of people on the team have never really played.

BUT HERE'S THE WORST PART:

When the sun was still shining, anyone looking from the direction of homeplate into the outfield was blinded by the sun. One of their players got a basehit into centerfield. As the shortstop, it's my job to take the cut-off throw. In mid-air, the ball and the sun merged into a red-hot blindspot. I started saying "fuck, fuck, fuck" as I backed away, with my glove up to protect my face. Fortunately, I didn't need to use the glove to protect my ruggedly handsome looks; the ball hit my crotch instead. I don't think I've said the word "fuck" in one five minute period as much as I did immediately before and after I was rendered incapable of fathering children.

I give playing shitty softball game two red, swollen testicles.