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My Athletic Lowlights

November 8th, 2010 - Uncategorized - 24 Comments »

Let it be known – I’m a Brooks Conrad fan.

In case you missed it a couple weeks ago, Brooks made some key playoff-game errors that demoted him from one of the most beloved Atlanta Braves of the year to the most hated in 3.8 seconds. It was as though he sacrificed a litter of kittens on the pitchers mound and used their skins as batting gloves.

I get why the fans are mad, though. It’s because most of them have never been there. Most fans have never personally experienced this level of shame and humiliation.

I have, though. Granted, it was on a much smaller stage, but I’ve been there. Which is why I’ll never turn on you, Mr. Conrad. We’re kindred spirits. Allow me to prove it…

The Stolen Base
9th grade. I was playing center field at the time. We were in extra innings at Collins Hill. Their runner on first stole second. Our catcher overthrew the shortstop. All I needed to do was back up the throw. Just back up the throw, Tyler. Lucky for my future blog readers, the ball went under my glove and all the way to the fence. As I embarked on the run-of-shame, their runner scored easily from second. Game over. 45-minute bus ride home with an entire team whose whispers are a lot louder than they realize.

Million Dollar Shot
I’m not good at golf. I can’t tell you the last time I broke 100 without cheating. Yet somehow, when playing in a fraternity golf tournament in college, I was closest to the pin on the one par-3 that mattered most. After the tournament ended, I was awarded one shot at a million dollars. Seriously. One shot from 150 yards out. I make it, I’m rich. A Tiger Woods-sized gallery formed around the green (OK, this is a mild exaggeration – it was more Padraig Harrington-sized) to watch me make history.

I hit it 30 feet. Sadly, no one remembered the fact that I was closest to the pin on that other hole. Not a one.

Dude
The last high school basketball game I ever played did not end well. After screwing up (which was a common practice of mine), our coach (the high school version of Bobby Knight) called a timeout. I’m not sure what my thought process was, but three seconds into his ream-session I chose to defend myself. Not only did I choose to defend myself, but I chose to begin with the phrase “Dude, I was just–” And like a pissed-off ninja, he grabbed my jersey under the neck (bully-style) before I could blink, touched his nose to mine, and told me “Don’t you ever f***ing call me ‘Dude’ again!” After the game, I decided that we should see other people.

My Last At-Bat
The last high school baseball game I ever played ended even worse. We were down a run in the last inning of a regional playoff game my junior year. Their pitcher was all over the place so we were told to take a strike before we even lifted the bat off our shoulder. Naturally, I remembered this instruction mid-swing. Too late. Check swing. Strike. I step out of the batters box, look to my left, and my third-base coach was charging towards me. “You better make up for that” he said. I took a deep breath and turned around to step back into the batters box. To my surprise, my head coach was standing on home plate, benching me mid-at-bat. “Sit. Down.” And sit down I did – for the rest of my life.

I’m feeling a bit depressed. You have any athletic lowlights of your own? I need this.

And for a more light-hearted list of my Greatest Sports Moments, click here. Note: None of them actually happened in a game or in a situation that mattered. But they did happen.

  • http://whatheisteachingme.wordpress.com Jeremy

    Senior year, on the basketball team. Due to an injury of our center, I'm forced to play in a game that decides whether we go to the playoffs. We're down by 3 points before the half, and somehow I get the ball at mid-court with no one near me. 3 seconds left. I dribble down the court. Everyone is screaming "SHOOT IT!", but instead I dribble in for a layup. It takes longer than 3 seconds for me to get to the basket. The timer goes off. I never shoot the ball.

    Needless to say, I didn't play in the second half (our injured center played better than me…). We won the game, but no thanks to my lack of awareness.

    I feel for you, man! I've been right there. Dude, I need a hug… Is it alright if I call you dude?

    • Tyler Stanton

      yes, of course. if it ever becomes not OK, i'll grab your jersey and let you know………………..tyler stanton

  • reedlove

    Sadly – i was there for your last at bat – and while I didn't understand it at the time, i now understand why you were pulled after one half swing of the bat.

    sorry dude…can i call you dude?

  • http://www.logankstewart.blogspot.com logankstewart

    My dad's 6'7" or so. He was a great center for his high school team. Everyone says how good he was.

    I'm 6'0" or so. My high school teacher called me Revenge of the Nerds Basketball Player. I suck at basketball. In a fit of madman rage I got a great rebound during gym class. For some reason I decided to spike the ball, and so I throw it down and watch in horror as it bounces off the floor and right back into my face.

    I'm not sure if I've played basketball since then…

  • http://www.adaupdates.blogspot.com Scott

    My freshman year, I was a 180lb offensive lineman that never saw the field because we actually had a good team (that year.) About the 8th game of the season we went in at half time up by more than a few touchdowns. During the halftime speech, Coach looked over at me and said “Moore, you’re going in. Don’t s*** your pants.”

    Flashforward, we were on the field lined up to receive the opening half kickoff. I was the center for the return team. We were out on the field and a flash of brilliance hit me, I thought this team is down by a lot and will probably trying anything to get back in the game so I turned to all my teammates and shouted the warning, “Watch for the onside! Watch for the onside!” In that moment, I felt about as good as 14yr old me had ever felt about myself. I was seeing my first action ever on a high school football and had the presence of mind to advise my teammates to be cautious of possible shenanigans.

    Their kicker approached the ball, it came off the tee and was headed straight for me! I watched as the ball bounced off the ground right before bouncing off my hands, then back onto the ground. It was like rather than trying to catch the ball, I tried to protect myself from it. Then, I just stood there as I saw the ball lying there on the ground. I finally came to my senses and was about to fall on the ball but I was suddenly leveled. I was hit so hard the first thing that landed on the ground was the back of my head.

    The other team recovered the football and I didn’t go back in. According Coach, I did s*** my pants.

    • nate

      i'm going to be honest…i was offended that you would put a comment this long in the comment section. but it was worth the read. well done.

  • Jody

    Poor Brooksy! I was at that game. 3 errors! My 3+ hour drive home sucked.

  • http://davidtrobbins.wordpress.com David T. Robbins

    I was the skinniest catcher to ever play 7th grade baseball. In our last playoff game (the one in which we would head to the finals) we were tied 3-3 in the bottom of the ninth. 2 outs. Last batter up with a typical 3 balls/2 strikes and a runner on 1st and 3rd.

    The pitcher wound up, the batter knicked the ball, and up it went into the air right above my head.

    Easy out, right? Just catch it as it comes down, friend.

    I missed it by a hair and it knocked me straight in the right eye.
    The runner on third made it safely to home.
    We lost.
    I got a black eye.

    -fin-

  • David Robertson

    Playing in a wooden bat league a few years ago, I hit what I was certain was a home run. Trotting with my right arm in the air, I watched the ball bounce off the top of the fence. My determination to at least get a double out of it resulted in getting thrown out at second.

  • http://www.pofgblog.com joerob577

    My last at-bat – I didn't play high school ball, but my last year of rec ball ended badly. It was the championship game in the district tournament – we win, we go to sub-regionals; we lose, we go home. I step up to the plate with 2 outs and runners on second and third. Opposing coach calls time out and puts in his best pitcher. I kid you not, at 14 this kid was throwing 70+. First pitch: curveball. I actually jumped back to avoid getting hit; it was a strike. Second pitch: fastball. I didn't even see it. Third pitch: changeup. I swung so early that I'm pretty sure I could have reloaded and had a reasonable shot at making contact.

    Three pitches, three strikes, my baseball days were over. Sad…

  • Michael

    Freshman year, wrestling tournament in South GA. My match is coming up and my coach, who is supposed to be helping me in my corner, is nowhere to be found. I later found out he was stuffing his face in the hospitality room. Meanwhile, as nervous bubble guts are beginning to build from something i'm sure i ate the night before i see the senior beast of a man that i have to wrestle (he placed in the state tournament numerous times…). Anyways, i begin to wrestle this guy doing as best as i can on my own, but every time i end up rolling around or he squeezes me i end up letting out some horrendous gas. I mean EVERY TIME! So as his entire team is there laughing at the farting noises i make when i get slammed on the mat or when he lands on me, i am slowly dying inside and looking at my empty corner and fan section. Long story short, i got beat 15-0 and still don't know the moral of the story…..

  • Mom

    Wow – and they say high school sports are good for kids?! Are you going to remember this when it's time for Bay to play?

  • Whitney

    High school, senior year – Missouri state quarterfinal game went into PKs and I was the 5th shooter. If I missed, we lost. I missed. Goodbye high school glory days.

    Conference tournament final sophomore year of college – I punched a girl in the face, right in front of the ref. What on earth was I thinking? Good question. I got thrown out of the game, of course. My coach lectured/yelled at me for at least an hour. Worst of all, I had to call my mom and tell her what I did. We shared a hotel with the opposing team and I awkwardly shared an elevator with my victim. Later that night was the conference banquet and I sat across from her the entire night and had to stare at her terribly blacked eye. I have never regretted anything more in my entire life.

  • http://www.katiehardeman.blogspot.com Katie

    National tournament my Senior year of college. We win, we advance to the elite eight. I missed an open 10 foot shot at the buzzer, thus ending our run and my basketball career.

    High school track meet my junior year. With zero practice running the 400, my genius track coach who also happened to be my dad, makes me run it. His advice: run your fastest until you get to the finish line. Apparently I only heard the first part of his pep talk because I ran 300 yards and then stopped at the wrong finish line thinking I must have just set some kind of record. It was a huge public school and the next day, kids asked me if I heard about the girl who stopped at the wrong finish line. Oh yes, I heard about her- I still do- 12 years later.

  • Brack Hassell

    Brooks Conrad doesn't wear batting gloves…

    • Tyler Stanton

      I knew someone would mention that. Well played.__________tyler stantonSent from my new Palm Pilot.

  • hayne

    It was a beautiful October afternoon.
    I gripped the bat tightly in one hand as I stared over the field and held that beautiful dimpled ball in my other. You know, baseball bat meets golf ball.
    Something about watching that connection fly sends electricity down your spine. Wow, they fly so far and so high. I feel like I'm about to stand on top of the world.
    I slowly soft pitch the Titleist 3 to my shoulder level, stare that little yard nugget down, and place the most perfect swing onto it's orange plastic skin.
    Only instead of sailing across our yard, it sailed into my parents lamppost.
    A beacon of light to lead night visitors our front door, shattered into 1000's of pieces of glass, metal, and bird poop.

    I panicked. "What do I do!"
    "Ummm I know, I'll hide the murder weapon. Run inside and watch TV. Dad will never know. I mean, he's never mentioned that lamppost before."
    What was only 2 hours seemed like 2 days… "Will Dad notice? Oh I hope not."
    Car pulls into the garage. Long pause. No back door opening.
    "Oh no!!! He must have found it. He must have."
    The door cracks…
    "Hayne, come out here. I need to show you something."
    My heart sinks… and I walk to the front yard.
    "You know anything about this son?"
    "About what dad?"
    "About this lamppost all busted up."
    "Wow… look at that. No sir. I bet a bird flew threw it."

    For the next three days my father spoke of nothing but that bird.
    At breakfast, at dinner, at bedtime. He debated the bird's speed, it's size, it's species.
    I was beginning… to go insane.
    "I did it. I did it. Okay. I hit a golfball with a bat and knocked out the lamppost. I was my fault!"

    Father grins.
    Hayne grounded.

  • http://www.tylertarver.com Tyler Tarver

    10th grade. High school game. The Assistant coach tells me the pitcher's throwing a slow curve, just lean in and let it brush my elbow then I'm on base. Pitcher winds up, I lean in, pitch comes straight over the top like Stallone. Instead of graciously leaning my head over and taking the hit to the helmet, I do a Matrix/Fat Joe lean back attempt and catch a fastball straight to the mouth.

    My immediate To-Do list: Hit ground, bleed profusely.

    I can still feel the knot/scar inside my lip.

  • http://tonycarmody.blogspot.com Tony C.

    All of my sports memories are athletic lowlights. :)

    Thank God for making me a youth minister. Now, at 27, I can compete with high schoolers in most sports.

    Ball-in-socket!

  • http://differentway4kids.blogspot.com Joey Espinosa

    Worst game I ever played was my junior year in HS, playing for state championship game. Playing CB, I had missed tackles, made a great tackle on their QB — about 12 yards out of bounds, blew coverages, and so on. Great time to implode.

    Happily, the story ended on a good note. I got an INT with less than a minute to go on the 10-yard line, sealing the 24-16 win. Not to rub it in (ok, maybe a little), but the opposite of you "million dollar shot story" — when you close with one good play, it erases everyone's bad memories.

  • Andrew

    9th grade JV baseball, I had 5 at-bats in a 22-game season. I was affectionately labeled the team's scorebook keeper. In one game that we were winning big, I was put in as a "pinch-runner" at first. On a groundball up the middle, I thought I could beat the centerfielder's throw to third base (my base-running speed was once described as being "as slow as Christmas").

    The third-baseman literally had the ball 20 feet before I got there. Knowing I had no chance to be safe, I instead lowered my shoulder and barreled into him trying to knock the ball free. He kind of half-stumbled backwards and only fell because he tripped over the base. In the words of one of my teammates, the ump yelled, "You're out, and you're outta here!" I was the only athlete in our high school to be ejected that year. Needless to say, it was the last season of my 10-year baseball career.

  • Pingback: My Athletic Lowlights « tylerstanton.com | Bat Fin

  • ferrero51

    Let me set the scene for you…

    Senior year. Homecoming football game. Playing against our rivals. Who we hadn't beaten in five years. Score is tied in the fourth quarter. Our QB gets the ball and throws it 30 yards for the game-winning touchdown. What's that on the field? Crap, a flag. Holding. On this guy. The play is called back and THEN the other team decides to double-team on defense. Against me. Our QB gets sacked and they end up running the fumble back for the REAL game-winning touchdown.

    The homecoming dance wasn't even worth it.

  • Chris

    Our collegiate soccer team was playing a fun game of "softball" against the softball team. The girls hit slow pitch from us, and we hit off of a tee. I step up to the plate. Thrice I swing for the fences, and thrice I blow right past the ball.

    I am a collegiate athlete, and I struck out in Tee Ball.