I can tell it’s softball season again because I am walking (limping) around like a “mofo” (as the kids would say). I accept the responsibility for the pain and soreness, because I’m the guy ignoring it all while on the field for, in this case, two games this past weekend.
Competition shows its ugly head just in time to win, and never for a moment more
I am the youngest player on one of the two teams (the next oldest person is 30 years older than me), rendering me among the better players (and therefore necessary). The other team is in a different league, I am by far the weakest link – like, by a lot. So I have to work even harder to not let the team down and do the best as I can. I guess the competitive side in me comes out during the heat of the game, but that same competitive side never sticks around long enough for the aftermath. Competition doesn’t stick around to endure the hours (days?) on end of soreness, pain and stiffness that ensues.
Competition shows its ugly head just in time to win, and never for a moment more.
I guess I can live with that.