26 August 2005

A Day Off


   25 August 2005

"A Day Off"

The bible states "on the seventh day, he rested..."

I know that is talking about God and it is somewhere in Genesis (no, not the group with Phil Collins).

Apparently, God has never been a paramedic.

Finally. A day off after what is about to be a long and grueling weekend.  It is time to hang out with some friends and recharge the batteries that are blinking "low" within my system. It is time to grab some friends and let our hair down (or put it under a cap as you see there), but most of all...it is Miller time.

I had acquired some tickets to the Indians game (like I don't go there enough) a while back and thought that I would take some friends along with me. Bev had worked that day and had not felt well, so she told me to go and have a good time.  Not wanting to waste the ticket, I called Steve (the guy on the right with the gray shirt) to come and meet us at the game. (Steve is the crew chief on B-shift and passes off 93 to me each morning).  Steve met us up and the games began.

The others pictured are Kim (my old partner) and Melanie (an EMT-Intermediate).  The pic was taken by Bill (an Elyria Fireman) who is dating Melanie.

Gosh, the weather was a perfect 72 degrees at game time and not a cloud in the sky.  THIS is the perfect weather for baseball.

Our seats were on the first base line about 20 rows from the field with a spectacular view of the game as the Indians played the Texas Rangers continuing with their playoff hopes (they are tied for first right now in the wild card position).

Joking with Bill, we kidded about catching a foul ball and what we would do if we did.  I mean, really, what are the odds on catching a foul ball.

In Jacob's Field....43,075 to 1.

Yeah...pretty bad odds...I know.....


In the sixth inning, The Indian's Second baseman, Ronnie Belliard

 came to the plate.  With a 2-2 count, he took a slider down and away..which he hit....foul.

Watching the ball, we tracked it high in the air and watched as it started to descend.....right above us.

Now, here is that moment of truth. You are on national television, all the cameras are following the ball.  For that brief second, whomever gets the ball with a spectacular catch will be on TV and perhaps even  .

Looking up, the ball bigger and bigger as it honed in on our destination.

I stood up thinking that I would have to fight for the ball had it come our way. My peripheral vision shows no one else up....it is all me.....time to be a hero.

At this point, there is no sound, slow motion, and your heartbeat echoing in your ears as you extend your arm to make the catch....

Here it is....moment of truth.....


I forgot to mention that I was drinking this night which REALLY alters your mobility....

So I got the foul ball....which deflected off my wrist...and into Bill's hand.

Holding it up in the air, the crowd cheered for him as his recovery was phenominal, spectacular, and for me, hurt like a mother.

Bill got the ball, I got the black and blue mark.

But the most important thing....I didn't spill my beer.

Rounding Third and Heading Home,


13 August 2005

It Must Suck to be You

14 August 2005

"It Must Suck to be You."

Instead of the normal story that I feed you all, I thought I would get a little creative and write my newest entry in poem form.  I hope you like it.



As the summer sun begins to settle,

a monster awaits in its cage.

With random fury and vigilance,

it awaits with a vengeful rage.

What started as a flicker,

slowly begins to rise,

Within moments consuming everything,

as it bellows to the sky.

The neighbors begin to settle,

and shelf their daily cares.

Their senses are slowly distracted,

By the smoke that fills the air.

Day turns into night,

with the beast slowly showing his face.

The 9-1-1 lines begin to light up,

with a request to save this place.

"I need the fire department."

"We need them on this side of town."

"Tell them to please hurry,"

"His house is burning down."

Within minutes the call is answered,

by men who have little fear.

As they roll in front of the monster,

and finish donning their gear.

Pulling off a blitz line,

preparing to attack.

The fire begins to laugh out loud,

"Had you forgotten where you’re at?"

Ignoring his vicious comments,

the firemen pull their gear.

And open the hydrant and find nothing.

There’s no water pressure over here.

Laughing in a tauntful manor,

the fire continues to eat.

"Without any water from the pipeline,

there is no way I can be beat."

The determination fades out,

and is slowly replaced with fear.

A MABAS tone is needed.

To get the water here.

Calling for the cavalry,

the radio plays its tune.

Dispatching the county fire departments,

Help will be here soon.

"You lack of preplanning,"

"has given me quite a feast."

The mockery comes from the fire,

the uncontrollable beast.

Like the trumpets in the civil war,

the calvary has arrived.

A water shuttle has been created,

Time to take the dive.

"You may have won the battle,

"but in no way have you won the war."

The beast screams out in anger,

as the warriors make it no more.

Walking through the ashes,

the homeowner has arrived home.

Leaving he left his castle,

returning he has none.

A skeleton is all that’s left,

of the place where he hung his hat.

Walking in where his kitchen was,

a memory is all that is left.

Confronted by his neighbors,

with a brighter side to see.

They assured him it can all be rebuilt,

Almost better than could be.

A tear streaked down his cheek.

Reminiscing through the collapse.

"I really don’t think that will happen.

Last week my insurance lapsed."

All the details that I write about,

are events that all are true.

But shaking my head in disbelief,

all I can say is "It must suck to be you>"

So as I leave in closing,

I give you what you've come to known,

My trademark salutation,

Rounding Third and Heading home,