Bought the preceding book for Dad for his birthday, and as is a developing custom, he lent it to me and Dennis when he was done. An outstanding book, for anyone with an interest in baseball, and a fondness for the strategy.
That done, I have a confession to make.
It’s difficult, but after a conversation today, I felt I had to share it with you. It’s quite possible you’ll never look at me the same again, but dangit, I needed to get it off my chest. So leave now, if you’re not prepared to enter the abyss that is my mind.
Deep breath. Alright. I can do this.
I’ve never gone skiing. Ever.
It came up when I was talking to Alex earlier, shortly after I’d gotten home from the morning exam (last one! yay!) and he broached the possibility of going snowboarding or skiing on Thursday. I responded that I had a tepid interest in it, though I’m not sure if even that isn’t overestimating it.
He asked what kind of skiier I was, and I shrugged. He looked at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted a third arm in the middle of my forehead, and the hand from said arm was waving at him.
“I’ve never gone skiing,” I admitted, after a silence.
“Never?” he asked, incredulous.
I nodded, and braced myself for the inevitable. I’d heard the lecture before, and I didn’t particularly want to hear it again. This close to the mountains, winter all the time, yadda yadda yadda. I know, it’s a crime against humanity, and such. But it is what it is.
I’ve always been a summer sports kind of guy. Basketball, baseball, road hockey, football, frisbee, and other sports that don’t require gear, toques, or mittens that can’t keep my thumbs warm. Skiing, ice hockey, snowboarding, all the wintery sorts of things that people in Alberta seemed to enjoy, I’d never really invested myself in.
Maybe it was the warm summers in Ontario that got me. Maybe it was the blustery, wet cold of Nova Scotia that turned me off of them. I couldn’t really say. But I’ve never gone skiing or snowboarding, and I doubt that’ll change in the near future.