Before writing time
July 7, 2009. I took a walk along the lakefront path this evening, to clear my head before the night’s writing. For the sake of research, I crossed the pedestrian bridge to the Lincoln Park athletic fields. This to get to the North Star Eatery and get info to share.
All the fields were occupied with competing teams. I worried about being hit by an errant baseball or soccer ball, from exceptionally good players or exceptionally bad players depending.
One deep in the field could kick a soccer ball so hard it brushed past the goal to blast under my feet. One at bat could lob a foul ball that ascended to mid air, then descend fast in the path of my noggin.
I’d be doomed, I tell ya. Unless the fellows who were playing catch at the side fields – whose potential overthrows I feared – would call to me watch out! Yet that wouldn’t be enough, as my reaction time would be as rotten as it was during my participation in all serious sports.
The only way I’d be saved would be by a fellow whose reaction time was superior enough to realize that my reaction time was inept, and he’d sweep me out of the errant sports-ball’s path and off my feet, literally. And perhaps figuratively as well. Now that would be the beginning of a story.