Saturday, April 28, 2007

The Cup

The cup has been on the kitchen table. The coffee table in the living room. On the floor. In a laundry basket. Today? The cup is going to be worn.

I'm not talking about a coffee cup. I'm talking about a save your penis from hard cup.

Zachary is playing catcher and part of the uniform? An athletic supporter and a hard cup. He didn’t wear it the other day. Walter was horrified.

He doesn’t have his cup on?!?

Once again, I’d like to point out, I am penis challenged. I don’t have one. I haven’t spent any time with one. Don’t have much to do with them except for the fact that I have three boys and they all have one.

Bottom line? Don’t entrust their care with me. I don’t know what to do. Catching without a cup didn’t seem like a big deal. Clearly, I was wrong.

I have been told that when big league players are standing at the plate or on base or in the dugout and holding themselves, tugging away, it’s because they are adjusting their cups.

Yuh. I may not know much about all things penis but I’m pretty sure what they’re doing, they did as little boys. Checking to see that it’s still there.

It’s a comfort thing, Walter explained.

It’s not going to fall off and run away, I responded.

Today, it’s definitely not going to run away. How could it? All protected by some high tech plastic material designed to be comfortable and provide protection from a third grader’s scorching pitch. It even has a couple little breathing holes.

Not that it breathes.

We get to the field. Cup in place. Ready to go. No instructions needed. Thank god.

Zachary runs back and forth across the field.

I settle in with my coffee for the day- I know I’m not home till 3pm. It’s 10:30am.

Zachary comes up, tucking something under his shirt.

Mom, he says very quietly, I can’t wear this. It hurts when I run.


The cup, he implores quietly again, pushing the offending object from under his shirt.

Oh. Okay.

Here, he tries to hand it to me on the sly.

What am I going to do with it? I asked. Just leave it here.

I pointed to the ground next to me.


I shrug. Seriously. What am I going to do with it?

Okay, he tucked it in the back of my folding chair.

You had it on your head the other day, I said. Why is it a big deal now?

He shrugs and runs off to the field.

When Walter gets to the game I report the cup problem.

He’s not convinced Zachary isn’t in grave danger.

They don’t throw that hard, Walter.

You never know and it only takes a little hit to hurt a lot…

I rolled my eyes.

I’ll get him one that fits better. Or he can take it out when he goes on the field.

That’s ridiculous, Jeanine piped in, and she’s the hysterical what if they get hurt mother.

Zachary ended up playing shortstop, catcher and right field. Nary a single close moment that would have called for a cup.

But you know, I think I’ll keep it in the back of my chair. Just in case.


Post a Comment

<< Home