James and I went to a Tucson Sidewinders game last night. The Sidewinders are the Triple-A minor league team of the Arizona Diamondbacks. I had never been to one of their games, and since the season ends next week I figured I should go. The fact that it was $1 beer night was not a discouragement, either.

The stadium was mostly empty at first pitch (which helps explain why the team is moving to Chandler, AZ). We tried to sit in the box seats behind home plate only to be chased out by an usher. Fair enough — we took our beers to the general admission area, field level behind first base.

About midway through the game, a Portland player hit a sharp line drive foul. From my perspective, the ball wasn’t really moving as it flew, just getting larger.

Oh fuck… it’s coming right at me.

It never even crossed my mind to try to catch it. As hard as it was hit, I imagined it would break my hand, bounce off, and end up in someone else’s lap anyway.

Instead, I tried to dive out of the way. Except it ended up being more of a girlish flinch, with my body twisted away from the ball and halfway out of my seat.

And so the ball hit me in the ass.

Well, okay, on the back of my thigh just below my ass. But isn’t the first description funnier?

My first thought after it hit was, “The ball is still in my seat. I should grab it.” So I did.

My second thought was, “Ow. No seriously, OW.”

My third thought was for my cell phone, which was in my pocket three inches away from the spot where the ball hit me. Close call.

Finally, I noticed every single person in my section was staring at me, and that for some reason I was laughing. I held up the ball and shyly waved, and they gave half-hearted applause. Some guy behind me brayed, “You’re supposed to catch the ball with your hands, not your ass!” Yeah, like I saw YOU diving after it, douchebag.

An usher came down to make sure I was all right and if there was anything she could do. James shouted, “He wants a hat and t-shirt! NO! FREE BEER!” I assured her I was okay, I would just have a nice bruise tomorrow.

Sure enough, I woke up this morning with a tender, purple bruise on the back of my thigh. It’s slightly painful to sit on, but nothing awful.

The Cardinals are coming to Arizona to play the Diamondbacks next weekend, around my birthday. I’m thinking of going. Ah, baseball: it abuses me and I keep coming back for more. It is the Ike to my Tina.