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We were in the third week of the season when it happened. We had been at an away game when the rain started. Yeah, the rain had been predicted, but it was not scheduled to happen until well after the game would be over. Well, as with all things of this sort, the weather people had missed the time by a smidgeon. We were in the middle of the fourth inning when the rain started, and it came down in buckets.
The field was cleared and the tarp was spread to protect the infield. However, the rain didn't want to let up. The rain was falling so hard that puddles were forming on the tarp before the water could run off. We had to leave our dugouts because the water was beginning to form puddles inches deep. Furthermore, the forecast was that it was going to keep raining like this for hours. There was no alternative—the game was called for obvious reasons.
We changed out of our baseball uniforms and into our teen uniforms: a tee-shirt and jeans. We piled into our bus and headed home. Oh, my God! It started raining harder if that were possible. The bus driver could hardly see the road and he was creeping along at around 35 MPH. We were all annoyed at the weather and we were hungry. That snack before the game had worn off by now, and everybody's blood sugar was beginning to fall.
All of the players were milling around in the bus, and there was some horseplay that the coaches were trying to control. Somewhere about 10 miles from home, we had to go down a steep grade. We never did find out any details, but the bus hit a slippery spot and spun around before it slipped off the road and turned onto its side.
Half the team must have been standing in the aisle when it happened, and they were thrown on top of those of us who were just waiting for an opportunity to join the melee in the aisle. The upshot was that a real beefy guy, the first-baseman, fell on top of me. I have forgotten the details, but when the screaming was done, I had a broken left arm between my elbow and my wrist. Thank God it wasn't my pitching arm, but it hurt so bad that I didn't think about that at the time.
Another player had a broken leg, and everybody was hurting somewhere. Fortunately, almost everyone of us had a cellphone, so we all called 911 practically at the same time. The head coach managed to cut through the chaos and to talk to the 911 dispatcher. He explained the problem and the fact that there were two broken bones and three other people were unconscious. She promised to send help right away.
It took nearly an hour for five ambulances to arrive, and the three unconscious players had come to by then, but the trainer insisted that they stay on the floor until the medics arrived. He did what he could for the two of us with broken bones, but it wasn't much. Anyway, the ambulances finally showed up, led by two Highway Patrol cruisers.
The broken bones were splinted and we were moved to ambulances for transportation back to the hospital ER (Emergency Room). Those ambulances left immediately, so I don't know what else was done. By this time, I was in too much pain to care. I don't know how he managed to do it, but Tommy talked his way aboard my ambulance and did try to comfort me on the way to the ER.
He called home and reported the accident to Mom and Dad. They promised to meet us at the hospital. It was still pouring rain like it was going out of style, so the ambulance took over an hour to get me to the hospital. Let me tell you, that trip could not have been more painful if we were driving over a cobblestone street. I felt every bump and jiggle made by the ambulance. I would have bet that there were flat spots on the tires.
The ER specialists finally took over, and my arm was looked at, X-rays were taken, and I finally got some pain killer. The doctor commented about how lucky I was that it was such a clean break. Ha, he wasn't the one who was hurting. They put a new splint on the break and sent me home. I was told to take it easy and not to put any strain on my left arm while it was healing. Dad was told that I should see our regular doctor tomorrow, but a break like this should heal in a few months.
Gee, thanks! That meant that I was going to miss a couple of weeks of classes, but what really bothered me was that I was going to miss even more time with baseball. Darn it, no, God Damn It, I was going to miss most of the high school baseball season! There was no way around it, I was going to have to write off this whole year as a monumental waste. Tommy, Mom, and Dad were all properly sympathetic, but that did not do me much good. Yes, I was pissed off!
Darn it, I was even forced to be very careful in the hot tub and to stay out of the swimming pool. And that didn't even cover the sex that I was missing. For the first week, I could hardly move without some pain, but I was well enough in the second week for 69 sex. That was no where near as satisfying as fucking, but it was all I could manage. Finally, after the fourth week, sex was possible but I still had to be very careful. I had not realized how much I would miss a good old-fashioned fuck.
We solved part of the problem by propping my butt on a couple of pillows. That was not as good as the butterfly position, but it did make fucking possible. My insides had not exactly been neglected during that first month, but it sure was great to be back to having my itch scratched almost every night. Tommy held up well under the strain, but I had to give him a few nights off. The poor guy worried about me the whole time, and it did affect his performance at sex.
The big shock as far as the baseball team was concerned was that our season was canceled. With two players out with broken bones and three others out with mild concussions, we hardly had a team. Several of the other team members turned out to have serious sprains, so the school administration just decided to forfeit our games and start over next year.
Of course, that made little difference to me because I couldn't play, anyway, but it did affect Tommy. The doctor had told me to stay out of the hot tub for two months, and Dad was adamant in enforcing that ruling. For a while, about all I could do was to sit on the swimming pool steps while Tommy swam and dove. He did spend a lot of time with me on those steps, but I was slowly going nuts. I just was not used to the inactivity that I was forced to suffer through.
I finally was able to function fairly normally just before school was out, and Tommy and I went back to my pitching practice. Man, did I need it! I had to work harder to get the required velocity for my fastball, and my flutterball had lost a lot of its action. I worked hard every day to get back my pitching skill, and I was well on my way to recovering it when the city baseball league went back into operation.
Tommy was in great demand, but most of the managers were reluctant to take a chance on me as a result of my broken arm. Another thing that hurt my prospects was that I had not regained the hitting skill that I'd had before the accident. Finally, it was an ultimatum from Tommy that got me on a team. He refused to play for a team that did not have me as a pitcher.
There was no question that Tommy was the best hitter and catcher in the league, so his threat carried a lot of weight. He insisted that my knuckleball was as good as it had ever been, and my fastball was good enough to cover me when I needed a changeup. Thank God, this year, my high school JV coach, Mr. Ely, was one of the managers, and he was willing to take a chance on me just to get Tommy to play for him. I didn't care how I got on the team—what was important was that I was there!
We had one week to practice before the season started, so Tommy and I put on an exhibition for Mr. Ely. Once he saw me pitch, he agreed that I was good enough to be a starting pitcher for his team. My broken arm had not affected my pitching delivery after I'd had the practice we'd gone through that spring. Mr. Ely remembered my pitching from the JV days, so he had me start the season.
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