Well, friends, it’s time. I’ve been waiting three weeks to get some distance and perspective to be able to write this post (for Nik’s sake, not my own). Sometimes in life, and baseball, unfortunate things happen. Like a season-ending injury, like perhaps a broken finger on your pitching hand. And that’s exactly where we currently find ourselves. On the DL. As in disabled list. As in, Nik’s season is pretty officially over.
This all happened three weeks ago-in St. Lucie. Luckily or maybe unluckily I was there. I saw the whole thing happen. I shot to the edge of my seat when that ball came back and hit him. Nik’s no whimp and when I saw that grimace I knew something was very wrong. In an instant, I felt everything I knew he was feeling. It was automatic empathy. The disappointment, the frustration, the discouragement. I like to think everything hit us in waves at the same time even though I was in the stands and he was in the clubhouse. I texted him immediately, are you okay? He responded that he thought so. It was swollen but they would look at it again in the morning.
Well, the morning brought no improvement. And let me interject here with the fact that he had an outline of the baseball stitches on his hand—that’s how hard it him. The trainer, Scotty, asked if I would take him to urgent care. After some poking and prodding from the doctor, he went in to get some x-rays. The doctor, clearly SO not understanding what this would mean to Nik, came back in and said well, you have a fracture! While Nik tried to talk his way out of having a splint or taking any official action to heal his hand, my heart sank. His face, oh it makes me almost tear up just thinking about it.
So here we are, three weeks later, with Nik still sporting a cute little splint. He said he felt ridiculous and grown people shouldn’t have casts. That may be true but he just looks so dang cute and helpless in it. It should come off either next week or the week after but he’ll still need to be taped and won’t be able to throw. So no more outings (which doesn’t mean no more training and lifting and running by the way). He finished the season (combined stats for both teams) with a 4-6 record, a 2.81 ERA in 89.2 innings with 28 earned runs, 22 walks and 87 strike outs. I couldn’t be prouder of him!
I’ve learned a lot in the last few weeks about the difficulties of the DL. First, you have to figure out how to be supportive and encouraging while not minimizing the fact that this is a huge disappointment and a major setback. Second (I’m horrible I know), you have to figure out how to maintain feeling bad that this happened when every bone in your body is rejoicing to have him back in your life. We get to go to dinner and the movies and people’s wedding receptions and date night. We get to see each other at times other than 10 PM. It’s amazing. But if you’re too excited, it feels awfully insensitive. Sometimes I wonder if the secret (or maybe not-so-secret) wish of my heart to spend more time with Nik caused this whole mess. Well, I’d just feel really guilty then, wouldn’t I?
And one can’t go around feeling guilty about such things as the secret wishes of one’s heart. So I determined to believe that nothing’s as black and white as it seems. There’s a whole lot of gray in the world of baseball. This injury is actually factually simultaneously the best and worst thing that’s happened this season. And how does that work? I certainly don’t know-it’s one of those mysteries of the universe like string theory and why people like Justin Bieber. But I do know it’s possible to find good in everything (don’t’ believe me? Take it up with ABBA) that happens in our lives. And I couldn’t be more grateful for this hidden blessing.
Showing posts with label Nik Turley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nik Turley. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Old News
I’ve noticed a funny pattern in my life lately. Nik and I have been dating for over two years and, you know, sometimes I like to try to fool myself into thinking he’s old news. Those blue eyes and easy smile have no power over me I say. He’s tall and handsome and dreamy (a co-worker used that term, I am not biased). So what? Big deal. But you know, every night when I walk into the stadium lamenting to myself, another day, another baseball game, I stop short. Because as soon as I see that guy leaning on the dugout rail my heart just absolutely melts. I light up inside—I can actually feel it, like the beast’s transformation back to his princely self, I know streams of luminosity (great word) will start shooting out of my appendages at any moment. I smile and watch him WAY more than the game. I get happy when he smiles, interested when he’s deep in conversation, a little weirded out when he slaps people’s butts. And the game never ends soon enough.
I like to think I still play everything so cool. This is contradicted by the almost frantic way I grab my phone every time it dings with the expectation that he’s sent me a text. And the way I sometimes wait at the edge of my driveway when he’s on his way over. And, for good measure, the way I latch onto him like one of those creepy sloths when he tries to leave (actually, that only happened last night but I thought it might be a fun image for everyone). So much for old news, huh?
Not that I’m mad. I’m over the moon that Nik still makes me swoon. I expect it to continue forever. But I think a little credit is due to baseball. People often say you don’t know what you got til it’s gone (at least the Counting Crows say that and maybe John Mayer and also Joni Mitchell?). Anyway, Nik and I are very aware of what it’s like when we’re gone. Baseball gives us a lot of grief but it also constantly gives us a chance to miss each other. Every stolen second is treasured because they’re so sporadic and unplanned—at least for seven months out of the year. And even in the offseason, I feel like I have to soak in every minute and record every feeling and memory so I can play them back when he’s gone. It’s hard to be apart but it makes being together so much sweeter. So thanks, baseball, for not letting my man become old news.
I like to think I still play everything so cool. This is contradicted by the almost frantic way I grab my phone every time it dings with the expectation that he’s sent me a text. And the way I sometimes wait at the edge of my driveway when he’s on his way over. And, for good measure, the way I latch onto him like one of those creepy sloths when he tries to leave (actually, that only happened last night but I thought it might be a fun image for everyone). So much for old news, huh?
Not that I’m mad. I’m over the moon that Nik still makes me swoon. I expect it to continue forever. But I think a little credit is due to baseball. People often say you don’t know what you got til it’s gone (at least the Counting Crows say that and maybe John Mayer and also Joni Mitchell?). Anyway, Nik and I are very aware of what it’s like when we’re gone. Baseball gives us a lot of grief but it also constantly gives us a chance to miss each other. Every stolen second is treasured because they’re so sporadic and unplanned—at least for seven months out of the year. And even in the offseason, I feel like I have to soak in every minute and record every feeling and memory so I can play them back when he’s gone. It’s hard to be apart but it makes being together so much sweeter. So thanks, baseball, for not letting my man become old news.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Movin’ On Up
Did you guess what this post title means? Or did you just assume I really like “The Jeffersons” (which I do by the way, that Florence is hysterical)? Nik got moved up! Isn’t promoted just the sweetest word you can think of? And do you know what that means? I have also been promoted-- to the home team wag because the next stop is Tampa! Hallelujah! And I mean Hallelujah! Praise God because I was just telling Him yesterday that I wasn’t sure I could live one more day like this.
I will admit that I had actually thought about how Nik would break the news to me when he got moved up. That’s not weird, right? It was perfect. I was recapping the game broadcast when Nik interrupted to say, “You actually listened today? You got over your fear of being bad luck?” I said that I had. And he said that I didn’t need to listen to any more games. The eyes welled up before he finished his thought. And, as a testament to the overwhelming happiness I felt, I actually cried while kneeling on my bathroom floor. I probably should not admit this but, in the spirit of honesty being the best policy and all, that floor is disgusting. In fact, there was a small dead spider somewhere near the vicinity of my face but I didn’t even care. My boy’s coming home!
I will admit that I had actually thought about how Nik would break the news to me when he got moved up. That’s not weird, right? It was perfect. I was recapping the game broadcast when Nik interrupted to say, “You actually listened today? You got over your fear of being bad luck?” I said that I had. And he said that I didn’t need to listen to any more games. The eyes welled up before he finished his thought. And, as a testament to the overwhelming happiness I felt, I actually cried while kneeling on my bathroom floor. I probably should not admit this but, in the spirit of honesty being the best policy and all, that floor is disgusting. In fact, there was a small dead spider somewhere near the vicinity of my face but I didn’t even care. My boy’s coming home!
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