Who Broke the Window?

I played a lot of sandlot baseball when I was kid. We'd choose up sides, find a vacant lot and play.... all 8-10 of us. This was one sport where I was never chosen last. And I have a couple of memories from those days, unfortunately, none of them are good.

One game that I was playing with about a dozen guys was in a vacant lot about three blocks from my house. We played there often, the base paths were worn in and the pieces of plywood we used for bases were stored there permanently. I remember I was sliding into home plate. I cracked my head on the ground and knocked myself out. I don't remember if I was safe or out. But is do know I was definitely out. When I came to, both teams were gathered around me. I don't remember much else about that game.

Another incident happened in my own front yard. I had been lifting dumbbells that day and was feeling pretty energetic. So I was tossing a 20 pound dumbbell in the air (I was the dumbbell) catching it and throwing it up again. Well, I missed it this one time and it came crashing down on my big toe. O man, did that ever hurt! Later that day toward evening I was feeling a little better and was catching some grounders my brother was batting to me. I went to scoop up this grounder, stepped on a 2x4 with one foot and kicked it with the other. The same big toe I dropped the dumbbell on kicked the 2x4 and lifted my toe nail. I hurt so bad I was swearing. Dad took me to the emergency room, and that's where the real pain began. The doctor had the nurse swab underneath the toenail with alcohol. It still makes my fingers tingle today to think of that moment. Then the doc grabbed the toenail with a pliers and gave it a good yank! That hurt bad enough to make a terrorist talk.

The third experience I had also happened from my front yard. I threw a ball into the air and whacked it with a bat. I intended to see how far I could hit it into the vacant lot across the street. Man, did that ball sail! Right through the picture window of the house across the street. I immediately ran and hid. But somehow everybody in the neighborhood knew who did it. Surprisingly, this is the one time I didn't get into trouble. The neighbor made my dad vow not to whoop me! And dad really know how to whoop!