Every recreational athletic league for adults has at least one "That Guy." He is the weekend warrior who pushes his frail and aging body way past its recommended tolerances. Every game is a life and death struggle, a war against a ruthless enemy. Inevitably, something snaps, pulls, or tears. The weekend warrior is unable to relive the fading glory of his past athletic conquests. Sadly, I have become "That Guy."
In my zeal to win a Ball-Busters kickball game several weeks ago, I pulled both stupid quadriceps muscles. They refuse to heal, probably because I have followed none of the treatments recommended online (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation). I've hobbled around in every game this year because true weekend warriors must play through the pain.
Our last kickball match was a big one. We faced the juggernaut, Ivan Drago team of our rec league, "The Bumblebees". While the rest of us struggle to field a full roster each week, their dug-out floweth over with substitute players. While the rest of us saunter up the kickball fields in a mismatched array of sweatshirts and t-shirts, this team marches in with stunning yellow and black uniforms. They have spared no expense to win this league, as shown by the custom lettering on the backs of their uniforms.