November 2, 2009

The fastball started to rise, it seemed as if it were coming toward his face in slow motion, he could see clearly the seems as the rotated toward his eye. Still nursing the effects of the party the night before, his body was frozen as if in concrete as the baseball screamed toward him. He managed to slightly turn his head which meant that the pitch hit him near his orbital bone. The tell tale cantelope splitting open sound of a baseball hitting a face echoed across the field. Jack, Sr. lost consciousness immediately.

The league kept paramedics at these games because heart attacks were so prevalent in these fantasy leagues as older out of shape men tried to re live their childhoods. They reacted instantly by immobilizing his head, putting him on a backboard and rushing him to Phoenix Hospital.

November 2, 2009

“Mr. Jenkins, this is Joe Webb from the Fantasy League, you need to get down here to Phoenix right away, there’s been an accident.” “What happened?” asked Jack, Jr. “You father got hit with a fastball in the face, he’s in route to the hospital right now. They’re taking him to Phoenix Hospital, their emergency room number is 555-555-5555.”

October 15, 2009.

The Judge looked down at his old friend, Jack Jenkins, Sr. “Have the parties reached a plea agreement” the Judge inquired. “Yes, Your Honor, the State agrees to a continuance for one year based upon good behavior. If at the end of one year, there are no further charges against this defendant, the case will be dismissed” the prosecutor answered. “Is this your understanding Mr. Goldstein?”, the judge asked. “Yes, your honor.”, Goldstein replied. “Then I accept the plea agreement”, the Judge replied. “Mr. Jenkins, this Court accepts the plea agreement and you’re very lucky that you are not standing before me after being convicted of the charge, because I would be sentencing you to thirty days in jail. If I see you again, then I will sentence you to jail”, the judge intoned.

Jenkins answered humbly, “Thank you, Judge, I’ve gotten a driver for the year and trust me, I won’t be back here.”

October 30, 2009.

“Son, I’m headed to Arizona for a month to play fantasy baseball. Can you make sure that Bridget gets to the Atlanta airport to send her back to Sweden?” Jack, Sr. directed. “Sure, dad, and we have a driver lined up for you in Arizona for a month, he’ll meet you at the airport.” Junior said. Junior then turned and walked away, shaking his head. The old man was nuts.

The doctor called Junior. “He’s one tough SOB, I think he’s going to make it, but the key is whether he gets an infection from the bowel leak.” “Thanks, do I need to come out there?” “Well its going to be touch and go for a few days, it wouldn’t hurt”, said the doctor.

The phone rang again, “Hello is this Jack, Jr.? This is Deputy Marinara of the Park City Sheriff’s office.”

“How can I help you deputy?” asked Jack, Jr. “We’re a bit concerned that Jack’s ski bindings failed, any thoughts on that?” the deputy asked? “Well Dad might have tried to make them too tight for the race today and perhaps sprung something, or he got too drunk last night and didn’t check them this morning because he was hung over, or blind from taking too much ED medicine.”

“You’re probably right and your father doesn’t remember anything, and the only finger prints on the bindings are your fathers”, the Sheriff replied. “Sheriff, do you think that I would have tried to kill my father?” asked Junior. “No such thing, the resort is always afraid of lawsuits and sometimes people rig up their own stuff to get hurt and get some settlement,” the Sheriff answered. “No problem of that, Dad has more money than God, I think and he’s trying to spend it all before he dies. He may have a death wish since Mom died, I don’t know, but he’s certainly got joi de vive these days and lawyers, hospitals and death would cramp his style right now I think.” The Sheriff paused for a second and then answered, “Okay, then, I’ll just chalk it up to some dumb old coot who still thinks he’s 25.” “That about sums it up”, answered Junior.

Later that evening, Junior visited his father in the hospital. “Dad, I told you to be careful.”

“Son, I’ve never had a binding fail, ever, if I didn’t know better, I’d bet they were tampered with.” “Dad, I understand your pride was hurt, you’ve never crashed before, but your BAC was .055, that’s impaired for driving and drunk for racing. I’ll bet you had a handful of ED meds last night so you could please the babe of the week and you’re not 25 anymore. Promise me you’ll be more careful, I want to keep you around for awhile”, Junior replied.

After finishing his meeting with his father, Junior talked to the Doctor, “what’s his prognosis doctor”. “He’ll be fine, he’ll just have to rest for a couple of weeks and then have some physical therapy”, answered the doctor. “Good thing he was a little looped, most people would have tensed up before impact, he was so loose, that it probably saved his life”, the doctor continued. “That’s my Dad, he always lands soft”. As he walked away, Junior thought, “if only he would land hard enough to die.”

February 28, 2009

“Now son, don’t be too generous with the customers while I’m at Park City this week competing in the senior downhill”, the old man said. “Dad, don’t try to be the poster child for the “agony on the Wide World of Sports, “ Junior fired back. “Hell, son, its not the skiing that worries me, its whether that ED medicine will hurt my vision going downhill.” “Dad, you know you shouldn’t be mixing fast skiing with that stuff, you could get killed.” “Hell, son, I’ve been taking that stuff for years and it never bothered me before, doubt it will start now. I just want to make sure…. oh what is that chick’s name…, Sandi… to enjoy herself.”

March 1, 2009.

While blazing down a double diamond slope the bindings on Jack, Sr’s, skis failed. He fell into a grove of pine trees. He was carted downhill in the inglorious ski patrol toboggan after Patrol members stabilized him for about 20 minutes. A chopper was waiting at the bottom of the slope to carry him back to Salt Lake City for shock trauma.

“We have a male caucasian, 6’2″, weight about 200 lbs. He suffered trauma when his skis malfunctioned and he fell headlong into a grove of trees. He was wearing a helmet, but suffered a concussion. He also has a lacerations over much of his body, and a wound from a branch in his chest”, the doctor dictated into his recorder. “Will start to lavage the wound track of the branch and make sure there is no internal bleeding”, he continued.

The doctors worked tirelessly on him and discovered that the wound was deeper than expected and had nicked his bowel requiring surgery to close the bowel and clean out his insides.

After seven hours of surgery, they closed him up and started an IV drip of antibiotics.