Time to Change

On Sunday morning, October 30, 2011, I was up silly early.  This was the day that a party of 12 Australians were set to arrive at the hotel and make it theirs.  This was the day that started off by setting the clocks back an hour, representing my first time participating in that phenomenon way down in the tropics.  Of course, what Sunday in October would be complete without the virtual affiliation of Fantasy Football?  Well I had that going for me too.

It was quiet, dark, and sorta chilly.  Wished I had a hoodie, but I didn’t bring one.  The a.m. offshore winds this time of year are wicked brisk because The Mother Mountains that begin climbing immediately out of Puerto all find their way to about 3,000 meters.  So it’s 4am new time.  The Aussies weren’t set to arrive for another 11 hours.  Kickoff for the early games was also a ways away.  7 hours I believe.  I drank lots of black coffee until it got light.

When it got light, I got busy.  I grabbed my new ball and headed to the beach.  It was 7am.  I was barefoot in a bathing suit.  I wore a ball cap backwards.  I did NOT wear sunglasses.  I did NOT have an Ipod.  When I touched my feet to the sand, where the ivy and tall grass still grow, I flipped the ball up with my left hand, and watched it all the way into the top of my right bare foot.  The sting which preceded the blood represented sweet things to come.