"You've got to know, when to hold 'em..."

Ok, things should be slowing down at work now, so hopefully I can get back to posting with more tact and frequency as early as Monday. For the time being, I have a few things I will try to put up as the day goes on. Right now, you get this:

The following is a story that my buddy RT sent me this ridiculous story this morning. Just great stuff. And yes, Ryan pretty much makes up the entirety of creativity to this site these days:

So my mom calls me last night, and I hear "...Guess what your father just did...," in that matter-of-fact, I-told-you-so mother voice, And I'm thinking, "Oh no, what happened now...?" My mom proceeds to tell me that my dad ruptured his Achilles playing softball for Caterpillar.

Frantically, I call him and I'm like "Dad, are you okay? Do you need me to come home?" Because that's just the kind of great son I am.

He answers, "No, I'm fine a little sore... but man it was awesome! I was diggin' it out rounding third heading for home and all the sudden I'm on the ground! And I look up and I say to myself 'why am I on the ground?' I hit a great line shot into left center and coasted into second with a stand-up double. The next guy hits a great shot right past my head and before I hit third I decided I'm gonna score it...

"Keep in mind that he RUPTURED his Achilles tendon, and is this freaking excited about company softball... Purely Trimble of him. Viva Trimble. I digress...

Will Trimble continues: "...So I round third and hit the bag just like I taught you for 13 years of Little League, and three steps later I'm on the ground. But I come to, and realize 'Hell, I gotta score! We gotta get a lead here!' So I try to get up, only to find my left leg is completely limp and I fall back down."

At this point, visions of the Jamaican Bobsled team come rushing to my head, and I see my dad triumphantly carrying the sled down the last hundred yards with Sanka. "Sanka, ya ded, mon? No mon, but I got to finish de race!" My pops is a
trooper, a reaaaaaaalllll gamer.

"...So some guy comes out of the stands, I guess he was a trainer, and he says to me 'Hey buddy, I heard that thing pop from across the stadium, you better stay down there."

Now comes the best part. If you had been in Lubbock and seen my dad get pushed down the stairs by a member of the (cough cough) "Fine Institution" (Texas Tech) you know how pissed he can get. He says "...And as I'm laying there, the bastard that's playing catcher for the other team, this smart ass bastard, what an ass, this bastard... He has the audacity to come and tag me out, smart-ass bastard! What a bastard..." Add the word bastard wherever else you see fit in that sentence.

"...So they get me up, get me to the dugout and put some of those breakaway ice bags on me, and prop up my leg, and everyone keeps telling me that I should probably go to the hospital. But I'm like 'Hell, I wanna see the rest of the game!'

"...but after awhile it gets hurting pretty bad..." (No shit, dad, your tendon is floating around somewhere about mid-calf.) "So I figure I better go to the hospital, finally. Sit at damn Caseman (a hospital) til 2:30 in the morning and the tell me well, you shredded it completely off. But man, Ryan, it was such a great hit!

The epilogue: My dad is having surgery today and is is in a boot and will be wearing jorts for awhile while his leg heals. He figures he'll be done in about a half an hour, ha! Also, he wants to get a Hyperbaric chamber to sleep in so he can recover quicker and make it back on the field in time for the playoffs. The only problem is, his German Sheppard and our other stalky little mutt always sleeps at his feet, so it'll have to be big enough for both of them to fit in as well.

I love being a Trimble.

The best part about all of this is that RT's dad is a dead ringer for Kenny Rogers. Dead Ringer. Re-read that story and tell me "The Gambler" isn't playing in your head? Is it bad that everytime I hear that song now, I am gonna replace the lyrics "hold 'em" with "hold 'em at third?"

Get well, weary gambler.