Friday, June 11, 2010

Boom, Roasted

You probably ask yourselves everyday, "What do minor league baseball players do with their days off?" That's understandable seeing as how we are so interesting and our off days are so few. This last wednesday was the first real day off (one where we weren't traveling 15 hours), and being near the beach here in Savannah we were all on the same page. My wife and I are not necessarily beach people. I'm white like a ghost and Ashley is what we like to call an indoorsy person. However, most of the guys were going down to Tybee Island and we weren't about to be left out. We packed up our Reisenthel satchel with beach towels, food, and most importantly Sunscreen. You see, the last thing our manager said to us before we left for our off day was "don't get too burned to play." As we've already said, my skin is not historically friends with the sun, so I wrestled with the best way to get a nice bronze and still remain playable. Unfortunately for me, I have a wife who doesn't believe in sunscreen and naturally tans in one day in the sun. My conclusion was to put SPF 30 on my shoulders so that I could move them freely the next day and let the rest of my front and back get a "little" sun. In retrospect, this was a bad idea.

We spent 3 hours at the beach in midday laying out, swimming, listening to music, and having a wonderful time with each other...relaxing. The sun, combined with the sea breeze, felt good on my body. I felt good about my health because I was drinking water and lots of it. I thought "I need to stay hydrated so I don't feel bad tomorrow." Little did I know that was the least of my worries. We packed up and came on home salty, sandy, and tired. As I peeled the shirt back from my unexpectedly tender stomach I gasped. I was no longer a ghost, I was worse. Splotchy! I had covered my shoulders in what looked like a child's finger painting. Spots of red and white speckled my maimed body and all I could hear from across the room was hysterical laughter. Ashley was rolling on the floor with her perfect tan and I was standing shocked at my condition. Pedro's last words were ringing in my ears "too burned to play." Was I indeed too burned to pitch in two days?

Come on Folks, let's remember that I'm Scotch/Irish. Our fate is this...Get sun, get burned, turn purple, turn pink, peel, and repeat. This is a pretty quick process so don't worry about me, I'll be ready to go.




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