For the most part, I’m a fairly mellow guy. I maintain a certain level of even-mindedness that I, for one, am quite proud of. Some have offered, by way of constructive criticism, that I seem to shy away from conflict and should be more assertive. I tend to see it as saving my breath. I pick my spots to add my voice, so that when I do the people around me can be fairly certain that I am offering a well thought out perspective that I hope carries some weight. I’m not quite sure what all this has to do with my story here, but I think I missed an opportunity to be more forceful than I was recently, and that regret eats at me a little (and then festers). Essentially, I can not stand for behavior that defines a person as a dick.
Dicks are pissy. Dicks whine. Dicks throw tantrums. Dicks are inappropriate upon initial contact, as well as in their reactions. The Cap’n just can not abide the dicks in this world. And for some particular reason, my most recent encounter with a dick has left me in a foul mood. Which is just another to reason to despise them.
I play on, and coach, my workplace softball team. I make a point of letting everyone on the team know that I really couldn’t care less if we win our games or not. This isn’t to say that I’m not a competetive person, just that my motivation to play in this softball league is to have fun, not to win. Winning’s nice, and I enjoy it, but my focus is to get everyone in the game and to make sure they’re having a good time. So when somebody on the other team is being a dick, it rubs me the wrong way.
Here’s the situation: Our team is getting pummelled by this other team. The mercy rule probably should have been invoked, but whatever, let’s just play. So this dick comes up to bat for the third or fourth time, makes some snide comment about how he’s been up to bat so many times because his team’s kicking some ass, when my pitcher questions whether he’s batting on his strong side. There was a question earlier about the length of his bat, and he said he was batting on his weak side, but then he was also pitching to us with his “weak” hand so we doubted the veracity of his claim that he was batting weak-handed. Now, this is this the first time in three years of playing softball on this team that we have ever challenged the batter, which speaks a little to the non-competetive nature of the league. At this point, though, we’re getting our asses kicked, and I’m going to support my pitcher so I make the formal challenge.
And this guy loses his shit. He throws his bat across the diamond, almost hitting members of his own team. He stomps around for a while, bitching about not being a cheater, until finally making his way back to the batter’s box. I couldn’t believe the umpire didn’t eject him. Hell, I couldn’t believe his own coach didn’t pull him. I wanted to slap him, or put him in a “time out.” He was acting like a petulent little bitch, and I missed my opportunity to really call him on it. And for some reason, that has put me in a funk for the last couple days.
Not only that, but he was wearing a Red Sox hat. So I suppose I should have known he was a dick from the start.
Post Script: My mood is restored. On the side, I perform marriages. I met with couple whom I am marrying this weekend for lunch. They said they wanted to pay me, and I told them in lieu of payment I would ask them to make a charitable donation to the organization of my choice, in an amount they felt appropriate. They blew me away with their generosity. And that has ebbed the funk.
