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Does This Look Like A Man(?) Who Took A Softball To The Nuts During Work Rec-League Coed Playoffs And Had To Spend The Entire Night In The ER?

(Excuse me while I get ahead of this story before a certain Spider Monkey takes it upon himself to blog about a coworker’s personal and private medical history. For real.)

The irony is not lost. I make one video “acting” as that remedial douchecanoe who goes full hardo during such casual events as intramural work coed softball and the very next game – BAM! The softball Gods deliver the ultimate strike three punchout to the lineage. Now I don’t know much about anything, but spending the night in the ER as a result of getting a hot lukewarm shot to the jimmies and thinking your testicle exploded is not the best look for life.

As the story goes, team Barstool finishes the regular season in first place and had our opening round postseason game last night. The crew gets there early (See: Playoffs) and takes part in some general warmups. During these light exercises, I ask Office Manager Brett to toss me a routine ground ball to get used to the turf, and whadya know? He fucking launches a rocket that takes an in-between hop which, for lack of any words, results in this:


Have you ever felt an atomic bomb go off in your nutsack while the radioactive mushroom cloud seeps into your stomach? Me neither. But that’s the closest comparison to what that felt like. And Of COURSE it was OMB involved with my nuts literally getting crushed. Every little thing that man tries to do right ends up as a catastrophe. Naturally, a friendly game of softball with Brett all of a sudden turns into never being able to have children. If he reached down to help my up I wouldn’t be shocked if I was somehow shot twice and pumped full of AIDS before I got to my feet. Nothing against the kid, it’s simply the Brett effect.

Obviously something was not right. I knew it instantly. The boys have survived hundreds of attacks for over 30 years, but this one was different. Between the pain and the swelling I knew medical attention would probably be needed. But…it’s the playoffs. What was a real man to do? Do I call it quits and evaluate my life choices of possibly losing a testicle on the battlefield of adult coed softball? Or do I man up, have my own personal flu of the testicles game, and literally play my nuts off for the team…before evaluating my life choices of possibly losing a testicle on the battlefield of adult coed softball? If you didn’t know that answer, then you don’t know idiocy me.

Real heroes don’t wear capes, or now working reproductive parts, for that matter. They stretch singles into doubles with the fire of a thousand suns penetrating between their legs. We played, and we played hard. Ultimately, to no avail, as we fell victim to a better team (who coincidentally had 4 college baseball STUDS show up for playoffs that weren’t there in the regular season). Afterwards, I took an Uber of shame home in silence thinking about my, and my potential children’s next move. I walked in and said to my roommate “I am taking a shower to assess the damage. If it’s not hospital worthy, I’m grabbing a beer. If it is hospital worthy, I’m grabbing the whiskey.”

Annnnddddd here we are with a frozen package of corn on by genitals waiting for the Uber to the hospital.


All in all, don’t mourn for me. I’m a survivor (and tbh everything is A-OK). Testicular humor is hilarious. I know that. It doesn’t matter who is the victim or how much they’re in pain, you gotta laugh. And I realize I am no exception. I laid there for a hot minute trying to dilute the pain and YP is laughing up a storm. After the game I ask Captain Cons for the best ER in the city, obviously insinuating something was very wrong, and he straight up cackled in my face. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same thing. Nut busting humor is something this great nation has been built upon for centuries. Ben Stiller zipping up his nuts in There’s Something About Mary. Any given Jackass episode. Man Getting Hit By Motherfucking Football.

All are timeless classics. Even when there’s room for concern it’s still funny as hell. Just look at this exchange I had with Big Cat in the wee hours of the morning from the hospital:


A kind gesture from our leader on the mound to check up on the kid. The “Aw fuck that sucks” really resonated as Big Cat clearly understood with the pain and anguish I was dealing with. Not all nut shots are fun and games. Big Cat sympathized and I appreciated his T’s and P’s. Well, that is until he Tweeted this out LITERALLY A MINUTE LATER. Seriously. Check the fucking timestamps.

Ruthless. Big Cat sees what I’m going through, shows remorse, and INSTANTLY exploits a gentleman who’s balls may have exploded at the speed of sound. And you know what? I don’t blame him, or anyone else one bit. It’s all hilarious.

Now excuse me, I think I left some dignity on the diamond I must try to get back. You’re only as good as your next game. Or cup check.

PS – Just throwing it out there for the ladies. Even after the assassination attempt on my future generations, everything down there looks and works below average per usual. Probably.