Mine was thus: It was the summer before I turned 12, and a bunch of us neighborhood kids would get together and play baseball. Everyone had their own mit, and we had a couple of bats and a ball, but no safety gear-no batting helmets and certainly no cups. I was playing second base, and the batter got a piece of a pitch and hit a fast groundball almost directly to me. I moved toward the ball, knees bent, ready to scoop up the ball and tag out the runner coming from first. When the ball was about five feet in front of me, it hit a rock, hopped right over my glove, and hit right on the seam in the crotch of my cutoff jean shorts. When a Rawlins regulation hardball met my two barely dropped, VERY soft balls, my soft balls lost. 🥴
The pain was instant...I immediately dropped to my knees and then onto my face as my hands covered my nuts, which I was sure had just been destroyed. I could hear a weird sound, like an old fashioned steam whistle, and it took me a few seconds to realize that sound was ME. I was on the ground, face down, ass up, holding my balls, with tears flowing. To this day, it was the only time I've ever cried from getting hit in the nuts. The runner from first, a tomboy-ish girl who lived on the next block from me, called timeout and came to check on me. She was giggling as she asked, "Did that hit you where I THINK it hit you?" I replied as best I could. All the other kids were either laughing or-if they were boys- covering their own crotches and Oooohhh-ing in sympathy. The girl was trying not to laugh, and was doing her best to help, but there's not much a 12-year-old girl can do in such a situation.
All the commotion drew the attention of the widow lady who lived across the street from the park. She came across quickly and asked what had happened. The girl who was trying to help replied (still trying to suppress her giggles) "The ball hit his...uhhh...privates!" 😆
The widow lady, Mrs. LaHatte, was a retired nurse, and insisted I come to her house so she could determine if I needed to go to the hospital. She and the girl (whose name was Sarah), helped me up and walked me slowly across the street to Mrs. LaHatte's house. She told Sarah to wait on the porch while she took me inside, lowered my shorts, and examined my equipment. She located both of my balls and determined there was no permanent damage, and reassured me that I would be fine. She gave me a ziplock bag full of ice and told me I could wait on the porch until my mom came to get me. Sarah waited with me, sitting on a bench with the ice between my legs, making jokes at my expense.
A few months later, Sarah became my first ever girlfriend. We dated for about two years.
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BrassRing (0)
18 dagen geledenWhat's your best accidental bust?
Mine was thus: It was the summer before I turned 12, and a bunch of us neighborhood kids would get together and play baseball. Everyone had their own mit, and we had a couple of bats and a ball, but no safety gear-no batting helmets and certainly no cups. I was playing second base, and the batter got a piece of a pitch and hit a fast groundball almost directly to me. I moved toward the ball, knees bent, ready to scoop up the ball and tag out the runner coming from first. When the ball was about five feet in front of me, it hit a rock, hopped right over my glove, and hit right on the seam in the crotch of my cutoff jean shorts. When a Rawlins regulation hardball met my two barely dropped, VERY soft balls, my soft balls lost. 🥴
The pain was instant...I immediately dropped to my knees and then onto my face as my hands covered my nuts, which I was sure had just been destroyed. I could hear a weird sound, like an old fashioned steam whistle, and it took me a few seconds to realize that sound was ME. I was on the ground, face down, ass up, holding my balls, with tears flowing. To this day, it was the only time I've ever cried from getting hit in the nuts. The runner from first, a tomboy-ish girl who lived on the next block from me, called timeout and came to check on me. She was giggling as she asked, "Did that hit you where I THINK it hit you?" I replied as best I could. All the other kids were either laughing or-if they were boys- covering their own crotches and Oooohhh-ing in sympathy. The girl was trying not to laugh, and was doing her best to help, but there's not much a 12-year-old girl can do in such a situation.
All the commotion drew the attention of the widow lady who lived across the street from the park. She came across quickly and asked what had happened. The girl who was trying to help replied (still trying to suppress her giggles) "The ball hit his...uhhh...privates!" 😆
The widow lady, Mrs. LaHatte, was a retired nurse, and insisted I come to her house so she could determine if I needed to go to the hospital. She and the girl (whose name was Sarah), helped me up and walked me slowly across the street to Mrs. LaHatte's house. She told Sarah to wait on the porch while she took me inside, lowered my shorts, and examined my equipment. She located both of my balls and determined there was no permanent damage, and reassured me that I would be fine. She gave me a ziplock bag full of ice and told me I could wait on the porch until my mom came to get me. Sarah waited with me, sitting on a bench with the ice between my legs, making jokes at my expense.
A few months later, Sarah became my first ever girlfriend. We dated for about two years.