Kickball Andy

One evening, on my walk home from the Metro after the conclusion of my normal Tuesday evening kickball festivities, I struck up a conversation with a stranger, or rather a stranger struck up conversation with me.  Andy had noticed my kickball shirt and stopped me to ask about how to get involved with the league.  Being polite, I explained how to register, and we continued to banter for the next five minutes.  I learned that he was 26, married with a baby girl, and worked with some large companies, blah, blah, blah.  He appeared to fit the standard Arlington mold, so I felt comfortable exchanging numbers in case he had any questions related to kickball.

Two weeks passed, and I received a call from Kickball Andy, as I've saved his contact number in my address book.  During the conversation he asked if we could meet up and grab coffee to not only discuss kickball, but also about the possibility of me making some extra money on the side.  Disoriented and addled by his comments, I informed him that I would be leaving town for a ten day vacation and wouldn’t be returning until July 19^th.  I figured that was sufficient to deter any future correspondence of this kind.  I also wish my moral conscience permitted me to egregiously lie at a moment like this.

Sure enough, as predictable as the sun rising in the east, I received a call from Kickball Andy on July 19^th.  The voicemail was as follows;

Mr. Brian, what’s going on? It’s Andy ***********.  I met you out in Arlington and we were talking about some kickball and I asked you about the possibility of making some extra money on the side and just wanted to see if you could get together next week. I told you I’d call you tonight cuz you were out of town. I hope you had a safe trip brother.  If you can give me a call tonight, we can set something up and get some coffee this week.  I’d like to show you what I do, brother, if you’re down, you’re down.  If you’re not, you’re not. Alright brother.  Well let me tell you something, Andy. I'm not.

After brainstorming a list of every possible outcome of continued communication with Kickball Andy and determining that absolutely nothing positive can come from it, I did not return the call.

Texts from last night: You around big man?

I’ve yet to pin down what it is about me that invites strangers into my living room, but I’m pretty certain that in Andy’s case, it wasn’t the kickball.

Relay for Life

May 30^th arrived. It was time for Relay for Life. Relay for Life is the American Cancer Society’s largest annual fundraiser and is a community-affirming event about celebration, remembrance and hope. I had volunteered, through work, to be captain of our Relay for Life team. I quickly worked up a PowerPoint presentation with a consultative approach to maximizing our efforts at the Relay for Life event, and distributed it to our team. We then spent the better part of a month fundraising and preparing for the actual event. Since this was my first Relay for Life, or Relay as it’s condescendingly referred to among the veterans, I was not sure what to expect.

My first observation. I was the first person to arrive at the Relay. Either I was given the incorrect time, or the thousands of others were all fashionably late.

My second observation. Many of the teams were comprised of primarily high school students; which, as always, presented an opportunity for unrelenting humor while walking around the track of the local high school. There was always a gaggle of girls standing off to the side probably debating why Bobby was walking around the track with Kim instead of his girlfriend Sarah. Come 2am, Bobby will most likely not be dating Sarah and will probably be curled up in a sleeping bag next to Kim. Sorry Sarah.

My challenges at hand were different from those of my generic high school friend Sarah. As the team captain, I thought it best to lead by example. The one hiccup; I was still suffering from pneumonia and as a consequence, leading by example wasn’t going to be my style. Instead, I sat stationed in my folding chair for most of the evening. When everyone got up dance to Walk it Out, I sat it out. When everyone got up to dance the Electric Slide, I slid my cheeks further into the folding char. And when everyone got up to dance to the Cupid Shuffle I pulled out my camera and took a picture.

Around 5am we started debating politics. Some of the most stimulating conversations I’ve had in years. I only wonder if my pneumonia medication and delirium let me to believe that we were having a real conversation. In reality it was probably no more sophisticated than the gaggle of high school girls.