I continue my exile…


The ol’ ticker keeps on ticking, which is good. I can’t express to you how inconsequential my absence from bike polo is, in every way, as I am not dead and my club really doesn’t depend on me to bring the baked goods nor the power plays to the pickup games. However, all things being relative, it is pretty weak-tastic for me.

Yesterday Lancaster United had it’s regular Sunday pickup day in the sweltering almost-but-not-quite July heat. I stopped over to stretch my legs and I got all sweaty just standing there. Fortunately it started raining a bit, so I used that as an excuse to get away from the body odors. On the drive back to the fortress of solitude  house, I realized that I was being a remarkable doofus.

Wilson the Volleyball from the back with ChuckJust because I can’t play the sport doesn’t mean I can’t practice parts of the sport. I am pretty miserable at scoop passes: why am I not practicing that? I can work on my balancing or my off-side ball handling. Hell, I could just post my self in my basement and work on passing the ball to myself from under the BB. I don’t need to just mope around, holding my mallet and swinging it into the vast expanse of horror and boredom. I could be getting my skills up!

So here’s to the Crusher clinical I’ll be setting up in and around my home. When I come back you bastards better watch’choselves.


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