Anyway, I had my helmet on and my friend Ronnie was pitching.  The way we play the game is that the team who is batting pitches.  That way you don’t get some jerk trying to pitch you a ball that you can’t hit even if you weren’t half drunk.  Normally I love it when Ronnie pitches, but today he had been on base just as much as I had and he wasn’t in normal form.

The first two pitches were way out of my wheel house and my Easton softball bat swing widly to try and make some contact but all I made contact with was air.  So I dug my green softball cleats into the batters box to await my last pitch.  It came on the outside edge of the plate and I swung with wall my might, connecting with the neon yellow ball and sending high and deep into right field.

I got on my motor right away and in a matter of seconds I was racing towars first looking for the ball.  Once I caught sight of it my fist when into the air as I saw that I had hit a home run.  I chugged my beer going around the bases and crushed it on my helmet on the way to home.  It was an exciting softball game.