I didn’t play the game much.  I often dropped the ball.

This weekend my family was at a swimming pool and we ended up playing yet another stupid game.  One person would jump in the pool while four others threw an assortment of balls at them.  The goal was to catch one mid-jump.  Mostly, I was just trying to protect the face.

On my turn, a basketball bounced off my pinkie leaving it freakishly dislocated.  While my parents’ friend popped it back into place I joked about how I should have caught the ball, mentioning that I certainly don’t have the best hands in the family.

Driving home that night, I got a call from my dad to see how my pinkie was healing and while we were talking I once again mentioned my lackluster coordination.

Dad: Don’t be so hard on yourself.
Evan: I’m not.  I’m just saying I don’t have the best hands in the family.
Dad: Well… you don’t.  I do.

About two years ago I wrote about my brother Brian taking a softball in the face after it took a bad hop. Well, like brother, like brother. I’m now the proud owner of three stitches aftera similar incident.  On this trip to the emergency room, however, Brian wasn’t the patient, he was the doctor. Well, actually he was working in pediatrics and didn’t do the stitches himself as I hoped he would, but he came down and ushered me through the ER.  Handy!

By the way, along with my stitches, I’m also the proud owner of a really stupid looking moustache/mutton chops amalgam.