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CARL'S STORY (I like
this title.... it sounds like some doccumentary.... you know... "Carl
the poor unfortunate boy had his balls smashed by a wandering walsh hit"....
hehehehahahhaha)
" Im writing this cause sophs
making me :P....*rubs bruises on back*
once upon a time there were 22 blokes
running around with sticks trying to beat the shit outta each other.
one day, one of them picked up a stone and whacked it at another bloke.
that day, hockey was born.
It hasnt changed much since - u still
get big sticks to weild, and the ball is made of cement. Oh, and
of course, girls now join in the ritual beatings.
Being a Centre Forward (otherwise
known as 'ballhog', bur more often as 'best player in the team and
the goal scorer' [...im humble 2 :P]), i tend to get a shitload of balls
smashed in my direction to deflect into the back of the net...or if
im in a bad mood, the front teeth of the full back. *winces*. not that
id ever do nething like that on purpose...afterall...soph is a full back.
(<--- that bits to stop her whipping me)
(Sophie says: make mental note.... next time
she see's Carl.... kill him with hockey stick.... as a full back she
is actually allowed to do this.... it says so in the rule book.... as
long as the umpy doesn't see u!!! hehehehe...... neway.... back to Carls
story....Oh yeah.... also.... before u think Carl plays an honourable
position..... he is bullshiting.... all he does is sit at the "spot" waiting
for the ball to be hit to him,...... then get a "glory deflection" and
take all the gliory from the full backs and halves who have got the ball
up to the forward line..... bloody Center forwards.... neway, back to
"carls story")
annnnnyways, this storys sposed 2
b about an *uhem* incident *uhem* that happened at summer hockey earlier
this year. (2 those of u who r hockey literate, it wasnt real summer
hockey, more winter hockey in summer :))
not helping my cause, (i.e.bloodflow
was being encouraged to outer areas to encourage heat loss ...not good
for soft tissue injuries...swelling is a bitch ) it was a really damn hot night.
about 10min into the second half (dont
worry, id already scored 3 therby winning the game ;) ), i was leading to
the 'spot' (the place u lead to when ur a CF [centre forward]). sean walsh
was carrying the ball unmarked through midfield, and looked up 2 catch my
eye. he prepared his hit, when the ball suddenly deviated from its predicted
course. not one to be patient, he took the hit neway, but had 2 reach
for the ball.
now, when u reach to hit a ball, 2
things happen. it will a) not go where u meant, and b) be lifted off the
ground. both things happened. The ball flew fucking hard (those of
u whove seen walshy hit will no what i mean), about waist height off
the ground. it also angled slightly left. this caused it to cross paths
with my lead slightly earlier than expected, and in the milisecond i
had 2 realise what was happening, it was 2 late. the projectile smashed
right into me. i used projectile, because 'ball' will now take on a different
meaning. its smashed right into my balls.
i can tell u what. i reckon they coulda
heard me yell fuck in sydney. because boy did it fucking well hurt. those
who no me no ive got a habit of crippling myself. ive broken my wrist, ankle,
pelvis, fingers...but nothing beat this. i lay on the ground, tears welling
in my eyes. guys will no what i mean when i say that the pain can sometimes
take a while to arrive from that area. well, im telling you now, if id lay
there 4 another second, i wouldnt have been getting up 4 days. i got up,
and BANG. it hit me like a fucking freight train. i got dizzy, im told i
visibly wavered on my feet. i walked oh so gingerly off the ground.
i dont think the girls reading this
have ne idea of what im talking about, but u can get me back when
u have kids. (but only if u dont take the piss weak option and get an
epidural :P)
i ended up in hospital for a few days.
i had surgery (yes, they shaved them :-O). and with the surgery came the
inevitable waking up still drugged out. problem with this was that the nurse
puts a phone next 2 my bed, and tells me to make as many calls as id like.
she obviously didnt realise i have
this thing with remembering phone numbers...so, at 11pm on friday
night i rang about 20 ppl in a state most ppl would describe as 'totally
doped up' or 'absolutely off the planet'. i pretty much just told every1
i was fine, the problem probly lays in the manner in which i did it. alot
of ppls parents and siblings got a little freaked when i refused to blieve
they werent who i rang for and told them alot of icky details. and by the
time id got onto who i rang for, i was often in a very emotional state.
i cried alot, giggled alot, and even yelled at some1s mum...cant remember
who. ...drugs r cool...then u come down...
anyway, the aforementioned surgery
thankfully revealed there was no permanent damage (yes, ladies, im
not shooting blanks ;)).
id just like to thank walshy for all
his calls of worry (absolutely fucking none), and the apology i never got.
i still play hockey. and you all bloody
should. tis the best game in the world. where else are you ALLOWED to hit
rocks at ppl?????? :-D. (Sophie says; I agree, Hockey
rocks... GO wellers!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
thats my story, hope u liked it :-P.
as some1 really smart once said:
"If it dont kill you, its worth making
a story out of it." "
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