It’s all fun and games until you get smoked in the face with a dodgeball by a kid half your age at a trampoline park.
There was a fundraiser for our local softball team and we took our kids to help with financially assisting the group. While there, some of the kids from our school, my sixth grade son and several high school softball players along with several other random teenage kids were engaged in a fierce battle of dodgeball.
Hey, what the heck, I’ll show these kids their physical education teacher and softball coach still has a little left in the tank.
Things went well for a few minutes as I successfully dodged a few balls and threw four or five dots narrowly missing each time. The other team must have recognized that I was an immediate threat to their success. What seemed like a reconnaissance mission pitting every member of the other team against myself looked dreadful for the good guy.
I showed off my cat like reflexes by ducking to elude one missile and then bouncing what seemed like twenty feet in the air to avoid another one. About the time I was paced to make my landing it happened.
Boom! It felt like what I would assume a right hook from Mike Tyson would feel like. A shot of pain went through my face into my jaw. I was sure that I may be sipping milkshakes for weeks through a surgically repaired wired shut mouth.
My lovely bride after realizing that I was not concussed found the incident rather amusing. I’m talking about laughing so hard she begins to snort like Wilbur from Charlotte’s Web amused. Hey, I like to make people smile. Maybe next time her laughter will not be at the expense of my handsome face.
I see why places like this make you sign that waiver before entering. It’s for the out of shape middle aged dad, who doesn’t have any business playing games as such with teenagers who are a lot younger and in a lot better shape.
Fortunately after a few ibuprofen and a little time, the pain subsided and I was relieved to realize that major surgery wouldn’t be required.
I did mention that I had a little left in the tank, right? Well, my idea of little may have been a little exaggerated. Instead of a quarter of a tank left, we may be talking about spitting and sputtering into the gas station after riding with the low fuel light on for thirty five miles low. It’s so low that I thought I tore my ACL getting out of my recliner today? That could be directly related to the soreness that my body felt from the other activities from the trampoline park.
With all that being said, I would have better prepared myself if I had known what this trip would entail. I have three children. They would have loved firing away with daddy being the bullseye of the target. I may have ran on the treadmill a few times. Who knew that playing dodgeball would be so exhausting?
How often do you realize too late that you are underprepared? Is it when you drop the game winning touchdown pass, because you skipped out on practice for the week? What if the boss moved up the presentation you were supposed to be preparing, but you hadn’t started? What if a non-believer asked you a question about Christ and you didn’t know the answer because you haven’t been in the word?
Most importantly, when you take your last breathe will you be prepared for eternal life?