I’m A Contender; Never Surrender – Balls 852-861 (September 14, 2017)

Toronto Blue Jays 2 – Minnesota Twins 3

Target Field – Minneapolis, MN

September 14, 2017

Do some detective work.

Fine, I’ll do it for you. The lyrics in this post are from Marnie Stern’s “Put All Your Eggs In One Basket And Then Watch That Basket!!!” That song is on the album “In Advance of the Broken Arm”. What could that mean for this post? Hmmm…

I may have broken my arm. Or wrist. Or if not broken, then severely damaged it in a way that it still unknown to me. I haven’t gone to the doctor yet, but the pain is still real, the ability to grip, lift, or move in ways not unlike an old man are not yet possible.

Edit: I have confirmation of a break in a wrist bone called the scaphoid. It is a very common bone to break when bracing for a fall. Read more HERE. This is only my second broken bone and first time in a cast. Is it weird to have always had a curiosity of what a cast would be like? Anywho…

How did I do this? And why does it relate to this game? Well, I was biking from the parking garage to Target Field and approaching the bike rack when chaos struck.

Target Field Mishap

(The blue public transportation dot will be referenced.)

I had hopped my right leg over to the left side of my bike as I glided into the bike rack area – a practice that I had done numerous times before. I went a little wide (making a slight left to loop for a big right) and as I turned right my tire was on the silver strip almost exactly where that blue dot is. This metal strip has no traction with bike tires, but the surrounding limestone does, so my momentum of leaning right while my bike drifts forward leads to… you guessed it, WIPE OUT!

I tried bracing for impact as quick as I could by throwing my arms out, so that I didn’t smack my face. Unfortunately, I smacked my chin a little bit, and I was sure that I was going to have a cut. I had gotten my first stitches back in grade school but landing on my chin, but this time actually having facial hair may have prevented the cut. I stayed on the ground for a minute or so as I tried to compose myself and make sure everything was in working order. It felt somewhat OK, but that was adrenaline. My arm felt dead, but nothing specific, just general deadness from everything below the shoulder. My ego was taking a beating, as people looked on from the bus stop, so I picked myself up and parked my bike.

I may have let out some colorful commentary as I walked towards the gates. My frustration with the accident and what impact it might have, combined with ego points being taken away from me made me rather salty.

As I waited at the gates, the pain was coming to me quickly, as the adrenaline was being replaced with swelling. My elbow started getting puffy like some old person with extra skin-flaps, and my wrist looked like it was stung by a bee on top of a large cyst.

As game time neared and my range of motion was only decreasing, I feared the worst – ballhawking being taken away from me for not only this game, but the rest of the season. The stubborn side of me fought on and rather than seek medical treatment, I ignored it and tried to make catching balls work.

It didn’t work. All ten – yes, TEN – balls I snagged were toss-ups and for good reason. I couldn’t catch. Even if it was a grand slam by Trevor Plouffe to win the world series, I probably couldn’t have physically been able to force myself to catch that ball. I was made aware of this by a couple of toss-ups that I tried using my glove on. If balls thrown lightly, directly to you were near impossible, game time catches were out of the equation.

Still, I forged on and did my best to will a HR to my glove (or right hand) in the right field flag court. A couple came close, but luckily none that I would have had a play on. I fear the consequences of that potential HR catch.

So that’s where I am still at today. The swelling has gone down, but the pain is still high, and the range of motion is far from adequate. I’ve been trying to force myself to use my left hand and fight through it, but I might have to throw int he white flag. Anyone know if the iPhone X really does have X-Ray cameras?

To appease Jared’s predicition and claims, I might as well throw this out there… What’s the record for most balls snagged with a freshly busted arm?

I got 10!

(Yes, the personal record was extended to FOUR games in a row. This is unreal. One more game to go… unless we have playoff baseball in Minnesota. Please, no one wake me until then. Sure, send me to the nurse’s office, but don’t wake me.)

Oh, and the Twins won on a walk-off bomb from Byron Buxton, his first walk-off dong of his career. I guess that’s cool.


Podcast from the gates of this game… (A great show for those who want to hear me in pain.)

Ball 1 – Bartolo Colon

Ball 2 – Teoscar Hernandez

Ball 3 – Chris Rowley

Ball 4 – DeMarlo Hale

Ball 5 – Eduardo Escobar

Ball 6 – Bat Boy

Ball 7 – Bat Boy

Ball 8 – Bat Boy

Ball 9 – Bat Boy

Ball 10 – Bat Boy



MVP Thank Yous:

  • Bat Boy Supreme – for the tenth toss-up, keeping the streak in tact and setting the new record
  • Hennepin County Medical Center – for the great folks in the urgent care

As you may have been able to tell, I am running low on storage space via WordPress. I have resorted to posting one collage per post, but I miss having extra pix, especially showcasing some panos from new stadiums. If you have a good work around or would like to see them posted somewhere else, let me know. If interest is high enough, I could be swayed to additional platforms.

One thought on “I’m A Contender; Never Surrender – Balls 852-861 (September 14, 2017)

  1. Pingback: 2017… Hey! Wha’ Happened? – Plouffe's New Hairdo

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