Yosemite Sam I am
Do you remember how Yosemite Sam turned all shades of red anytime Bugs Bunny got too sassy with him? Oh yeah... that was my exact look yesterday morning.
The seeds of this tragic tale were planted over a month ago. The Shrew and I each joined a mixed doubles league so we could do something together on usually boring Mondays. We were each assigned a lady partner because... um... we didn't have any.
We have had a whole month to get ready for this league. While I have been playing lots of singles and doubles matches like an addicted tennis crack head, the Shrew hasn't done shit! Every time I reminded him that he needed to practice before the league starts, there was always a reason to put it off another day.
I was so worried that the Shrew was going to be embarrassed on the court last night, I asked him to warm up with me an hour before his match. He flatly said, "no". When I questioned his wisdom, the Shrew got sassy and said, "Until you win a real trophy other than "runner-up", I don't think I need to take any advice from you on my tennis game." OUCH!
Which brings me to my moral dilemma last night. Have you ever wished that someone close to you would learn a lesson just so you can say, "I TOLD YOU SO!"? Sure, you don't want them hurt too badly or to suffer too much. But a good ole fashioned ass whooping wouldn't hurt 'em either! Well... that's what I was thinking last night.
To my amazement, the Shrew was actually playing well! Wow. His serves were harder than I had seen before. Well, son of a bitch! Maybe he was right all along. Honestly, I was quite proud of how well the Shrew was doing. His team went up 4-3 in the first set. They were marching along quite fine on their way to victory.
Then the unthinkable happened. On a fateful lunge forward, the Shrew experienced a popping sound in his calf muscle immediately halting the match. It was the exact same pull of the calf muscle that happened in Austin this year causing him to withdraw from that tournament. The only difference was this happened now on his other leg.
I immediately felt flushed with guilt. While I was expecting a butt kicking in the game score, I certainly hadn't entertained the idea that the Shrew would get injured. Gulp! I carefully chose my words when I told him that he needs to get out and exercise more or this will surely happen again. It's pretty obvious what happened, but to tell him feels a lot like beating a dead horse.