My friend Malcolm is in town for a few days. He's a New Yorker, a brilliant bass player, and an all-round good guy. Last summer when I was out on tour playing accordion with Days of the New (Malcolm is the bassist), I turned to Malcolm often as a source of sanity and balance in a completely insane situation.
He was stranded in Fern Creek without a car, which, for a Brooklynite, is even worse than it sounds. I was on my way to Whole Foods when he called, so he joined me on my quest for a yummy lunch.
Next to the Whole Foods, we saw something I'd never noticed before: batting cages!!
We immediately purchased six tokens after laughing at the nominal cost -- 8 pitches for one token for 50 cents. So we bought 48 pitches.
I'm not a baseball player, but I remember the basics. Keep your eye on the ball and keep your elbow higher than you think you should. After missing 8 pitches in a row at 45 mph, -- Malcolm declared they were too high and I would have been walked were it a real game -- I switched to 40 mph. The speed for little girls. But I'm not proud, so it was fine.
I hit the first ball, and it was a good one too, directly between the pitcher's mound and 3rd base. Suddenly, my hand was throbbing in a weird pulsing pain. I screamed an expletive, and Malcolm, who had hit about 16 straight balls asked it my hand hurt. "Stupid aluminum bats," he said, "They always sting your hand when you get a hit." I hit one more ball and that time my hand reeeeeeeally hurt. I decided I was too weak to continue. Then Malcolm decided that his hands hurt a lot too, and we should probably stop if we wanted to be able to play our Friday night gigs.
We gave our last two tokens to a little boy and his grandfather, telling them we didn't want to hurt our hands anymore. The grandfather grinned and asked, "Are you musicians?" Malcolm sort of looks like a rock star, and I had on oversized sunglasses. Maybe we looked the part. Or maybe musicians are the only people wussy enough to get injured in the batting cages.
He was stranded in Fern Creek without a car, which, for a Brooklynite, is even worse than it sounds. I was on my way to Whole Foods when he called, so he joined me on my quest for a yummy lunch.
Next to the Whole Foods, we saw something I'd never noticed before: batting cages!!
We immediately purchased six tokens after laughing at the nominal cost -- 8 pitches for one token for 50 cents. So we bought 48 pitches.
I'm not a baseball player, but I remember the basics. Keep your eye on the ball and keep your elbow higher than you think you should. After missing 8 pitches in a row at 45 mph, -- Malcolm declared they were too high and I would have been walked were it a real game -- I switched to 40 mph. The speed for little girls. But I'm not proud, so it was fine.
I hit the first ball, and it was a good one too, directly between the pitcher's mound and 3rd base. Suddenly, my hand was throbbing in a weird pulsing pain. I screamed an expletive, and Malcolm, who had hit about 16 straight balls asked it my hand hurt. "Stupid aluminum bats," he said, "They always sting your hand when you get a hit." I hit one more ball and that time my hand reeeeeeeally hurt. I decided I was too weak to continue. Then Malcolm decided that his hands hurt a lot too, and we should probably stop if we wanted to be able to play our Friday night gigs.
We gave our last two tokens to a little boy and his grandfather, telling them we didn't want to hurt our hands anymore. The grandfather grinned and asked, "Are you musicians?" Malcolm sort of looks like a rock star, and I had on oversized sunglasses. Maybe we looked the part. Or maybe musicians are the only people wussy enough to get injured in the batting cages.
1 comments
Yeah you should wear batting gloves especially with aluminum bats. For what it's worth I was with someone else who got injured at a batting cage. Even worse than you guys.
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