It was one of those nights where you promised yourself afterwards “I’m never drinking again.” One of those nights where a keg that’s been sitting on the back deck for five months through warm-again-cold-again-warm weather actually tasted good enough to drink. Grossly, one of those nights.

We went to a new place for Dave’s birthday – North Bowl in Northern Liberties. Cheap drinks, great bowling, cool mix of people. While we were waiting for some lanes to open up, we all swarmed the watering hole like a pack of parched wolves. Drinks all around! …One of those nights where I leave a tab open on my credit card for the night’s entirety. Den and I were walking around just to check out the new scenery. After about 30 minutes, we walk back into the bar area when I hear a bellow from our group of friends, 15 feet away.

“Bflo, what’s the craziest place you’re ever choked your chicken.”

Without hesitation, I shout back, over a throng of twenty-somethings, “Eighth grade. Sixth Inning. Right Field.”

I disregard the people I was talking to and continue to walk toward everyone to hear some other answers. “On route 76!” “In Baghdad.” “The parking lot of Springfield Mall.” “In my parent’s minivan.” “All the time in my car… I keep my silver bullet in there.” “At work…” “In a porta-potty at Bonnaroo.” “On the fourth floor of Scranton’s library, while doing research, into a book, at 11:30 PM…”. As the stories progressed, I swear it started to sound more and more like that Michael Jordan / Larry Bird commercial of the old days — “Over the second rafter, off the floor, nothing but net.” (That would be impressive, actually. Give it a go, ‘Mas).

‘Mas seemed to have brought up a topic that stirred mixed emotions, but in my opinion, a bunch of hilarity. …One of those nights were the alcohol tickles your lips loose and, whoops!, out slips some of your most intimate memories. It brought me back to that inappropriate and, maybe to some, embarrassing memory. Hell, I don’t lie. It was what it was. In a way, I’m proud of it. How many people can tell the same story?

“But how’d you cover it up?”

“I had a baseball mitt. I didn’t really know what i was doing, per se. But before I knew it, I wasn’t paying any attention at all to the batters, but instead to the game in my pants.”

Luckily, no fly balls came screaming my way. I got no action besides the self-induced kind. Come to think of it, I guess that’s why in little league, they put the worst player out in right field. No fly balls. No action. Little need to pay attention. Makes sense. With that…

Plllllllaaay Balllll! Only 9 days, 11 hours, and 6 minutes until Spring Training!