I never really wanted to play baseball.
Not when I was a kid anyway.
No kid ever wants to play sports as much as their parent wants them to play sports.
Everyday my dad would want to go outside and toss the ball around.
I wanted to watch TV, or go play with my friends, or do something else that didn't involve tossing a ball around.
Source: Giphy.com
Nevertheless on this burning hot August afternoon I stood in the backyard with my dad waiting for him to throw me a pitch.
We threw the ball back and forth a few times before going inside for a quick drink of lemonade.
I guess I must have gotten some of the lemonade on the side of my face.
When we came back outside a small insect appeared to have landed on me.
At least..... I thought that it was a small insect.
I turned around and said....
"Hey dad, do I have something on my face?"
He had been taking practice swings with a large wooden bat.
He made a shrieking noise and then flung the bat fully at my face.
There was apparently a large wasp crawling up my face, most likely trying to drink the lemonade.
Before I knew what was happening I was getting hit in the face by a bat and knocked to the ground.
That wasn't bad enough though.
I also managed to get stung in the face by the wasp.
It also stung me on my arms, my chest, and my hand so that I had multiple stings everywhere.
In addition to those stings I had a large welt on my head, and I was quite dizzy from getting struck in the head with a baseball bat.
After that, I didn't play much baseball with my dad.