It hurt bad, yet it wasn’t so bad.
Once when I was 9 years old my dad hit me with 10 straight pitches in a row.
This was after I kept jumping out of the batters box while Pablo fired off 3 strikes right down the middle of the plate. Pablo was a giant of a nine year old and threw pitches that had to be shot out of a cannon. I was scared every time he looked at me and wound up, so I’d start moving away from the plate before the ball even left his hand.
I could sense that my old man was embarrassed.
After the game, there was silence for most of the walk home. Before we got into the house, he told me “it’s not so bad”.
Really, it is not so bad. I’ll show you tomorrow.
The next morning Dad took me into the backyard, put a bat in my hand and proceeded to hit me with 10 straight pitches.
I told him he was a crazy old Indian that didn’t know anything about baseball.
Dad laughed, waited for 10 minutes and let me settle down before we went back into the house. Then he asked me how bad it hurt.
Not so bad.
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