My Ass

Right after the 3rd ball of my 1st batting practice, for the 2nd time in my entire life, I was aware of my ass. No, it's not that ass I'm talking about, that one is skinny and it's doing fine. I am talking about my proverbial ass and that one has become huge.
My ass is busy when I'm playing: I have to hustle it in, I have to get it on the base, it cannot be struck out and I have to get it behind the ball when the ball is coming my way. Back when we played lightfooted and without a care during summers that lasted forever, I was in control of it. Even better, I was one with it. I was in fact my own ass. It was around that time that the great thinker Bootsy Collins declared "Free your mind and your ass will follow". It basically meant that if you didn't know what he was talking about, you were doing the right thing. Those days are long gone by now. My ass has taken over and I have to deal with it.
The pitcher threw a high inside slider at a very gentle pace. Instead of stepping out and going for a pull into leftfield, I did nothing but leaning in on it. I watched in amazement how the ball bent down and had to step back and turn away to avoid being hit. I sprained something long and deep inside my leg. The sharp pain faded quickly, but the stiffness stayed. This was defeat, diving away for a called strike. I couldn't take care of my ass anymore! My ass should have been on 1st by now and together we should have been one. I knew what to do but I forgot how to do it. I was watching myself play instead of playing the game. It felt eerie.
Since the throwing, the batting and the fielding turned out to be a highly satisfactory 'unspectacular' during the first rounds of training it became clear that if I have to take care of my ass, the legs and the extra breath need improvement. From the looks of it I am going to meet my first devil: endurance training. My god, it looks unavoidable. But then again, who am I trying to kid here?
Some suffering needs to be involved even if it means that I am going to be one of those autistic wacko's in the park, with snot dripping down their sweaty faces and that self obsessed gaze, carrying around their waterbottles. Maybe I should really get into it and try to be the most self obsessed wacko around. What's left after public sweating and snot dripping? I could take it a step further. Maybe introduce incontinence. Organize contests who can leave the longest trail. Ok enough already, I'm obviously the last one who realizes I'm just one of them.
Bootsy will again be a great motivator when I try to change from a watcher to a player again, building enough confidence not to care about my ass. I'll use his mantra on my bike, mile after mile after mile: "Free your mind and your ass will follow". Bootsy will always take care of my ass and he is the high priest of wacko's.