What I didn’t mention in my last post was that I caught the baseball with my right hand, which was connected to my right wrist, which I’d fractured just a couple weeks before. Granted, the fracture wasn’t that bad. But, it was bad enough that my yelling and screaming after catching the ball was half celebration, half cursing because it hurt so much.
After settling down, one of the stadium ushers asked if I was ok and asked if I wanted an ice pack. I gladly took her up on the offer and spent the rest of the game icing my wrist.
The best part is, a guy took a report after I got my ice pack. He asked for my ID and took a bunch of information, presumably for liability purposes. I was in such a daze from catching the ball that I never once questioned who he was or if he even worked for the Dodgers.
Come to think of it, I should have been more suspicious when he pocketed my driver’s license and asked me for my bank PIN…
