Turkey Bowl 2005

For a few years following high school graduation, a group of my friends would get together after Thanksgiving at the high school football field and play a game of tackle football. We called it Turkey Bowl. I only participated in Turkey Bowl 2000, but it was one of the more memorable games (which my team won on a long TD pass thrown by yours truly). It was pretty brutal at times but all in good fun. Eventually, the tradition began to fade.
Fast forward to Thanksgiving 2005. I go out with the core of this same group of friends and we meet up with many of the original Turkey Bowlers. We drink. and tell stories. and relive the memories of past games. No one is saying anything, but we're all thinking about it. It's time to bring back the tradition.
So that is how, at 2 a.m. on Thanksgiving night (technically the day after but who gives a shit), I ended up running throught dogshit, throwing passes, and delivering stiff arms to my old drinking buddies in a tiny front yard in downtown Beaumont. Drunk. as all get out. But happy. Happy as I've been in a long time.
I've said it before but and I'll say it again. I MISS PLAYING FOOTBALL.
But I'm getting too old for it now and I've got injuries that creep up on me.
I told you this story about playing football to tell you another story. This one is about baseball.
Don't worry I am going somewhere with this, it's just going to take me a minute or 3.

As much as I love football, baseball has always been my mistress. I've played the game since I was 5. I was pretty good in little league because of hitting puberty early and being bigger than the other kids. Later on they would all catch up with me and level the playing field, so to speak.
I've played on good teams, decent teams, even really shitty teams. But no matter the situation, I just love to play. It's something about the camaraderie. and the groupies. and sunflower seeds. But I need to finish this story or else it's going to be too long of a post.

So it was a bittersweet day in late May of 1998. Two weeks from graduation. Quite possibly the last organized baseball practice of my life. We were playing Orangefield the next day for a shot at the playoffs.
At the end of the day I volunteered to stick around and throw batting practice to a friend. I did this mostly because I knew it was the end of an important period in my life. And partly because he had a bitchin fuck story to tell about his new girlfriend.
If you know anything about manual batting cages you'll know that there is a certain amount of inherent risk involved in being a BP pitcher. Therefore, you have an L-shaped screen in front of the pitcher to deflect liners hit back up the middle.
What this does not account for is the possibility of a bankshot off the side posts of the batting cage. If I had the tools at hand I would draw you a picture.
Anyway that is how I caught a screaming liner, which had ricocheted off the aforementioned side post, with my nose. Squarely. And the blood did flow.
And my nose wasn't just broken. It was shattered.
2 weeks before my high school graduation. The day before my final baseball game. We lost the game to Orangefield and missed the playoffs. I sat in the dugout and damn near cried. Okay, maybe I teared up a little but that's not important.

Sidenote:
I had the most unimaginable streak of bad luck that year. 1998 was a shitty one for me.
Anyway, I got the nose fixed as best as possible and did all the cool things seniors get to do during their last week of high school with a big white cast on my face.
But I did it all in a pillfucked stupor. They gave me good Vicodin back in those days. And by this time I had come to know the difference between good pills and weak ones pretty well. Remember the scar story? It's over on the sidebar if you haven't heard that one yet. That terrible series of events occurred at the beginning of 1998.
I still have a good deal of blockage, but can usually breathe with mouth closed with little or no trouble.
However, I am very cautious about not reinjuring the snout. Usually.
Unless I've been drinking and playing football late at night. Which brings me to the conclusion of this long drawn out ramble.

Turkey Bowl 2005. About 3:15 a.m. Beaumont, Texa.
It's 4th down. My team is up by 1 touchdown. The other team has the ball. I line up over the center and blow through him. The quarterback (who is a big boy) ducks his head as I'm coming up. His head meets my nose. Explosion of blood. Tears in the eyes.
"FUCK I broke this damn thing again!!"
He goes down and I pull off my shirt to stop the bleeding. Turns out it may not be broken. But it still hurts like a sonofabitch.
But at least I got the sack and we won the game.
I remain undefeated in Turkey Bowl competition. Maybe I should just retire and go out on top.
and my nose is still hurting today.