Support for LAist comes from
Made of L.A.
Stay Connected

Share This

This is an archival story that predates current editorial management.

This archival content was written, edited, and published prior to LAist's acquisition by its current owner, Southern California Public Radio ("SCPR"). Content, such as language choice and subject matter, in archival articles therefore may not align with SCPR's current editorial standards. To learn more about those standards and why we make this distinction, please click here.



Support your source for local news!
The local news you read here every day is crafted for you, but right now, we need your help to keep it going. In these uncertain times, your support is even more important. Today, put a dollar value on the trustworthy reporting you rely on all year long. We can't hold those in power accountable and uplift voices from the community without your partnership. Thank you.

We here at LAist had a busy Sunday. First we white-knuckled it from San Diego to Los Angeles in our sporty little car as a torrential downpour wreaked havoc on our increasingly cracked windshield. After hydroplaning at alarmingly consistent intervals through the OC, we happily arrived in our charming West Hollywood neighborhood with quite an appetite, so we sat down for a quick bite to eat at our favorite little adorable cafe, Basix. After casually glancing at the menu, we couldn’t help but overhear a rather amusing story from the next table over. LAist will do our best Sebastian Junger impression and regale you with this second hand anecdote of Little League baseball tryout heroics (or horrors, depending on your perspective):

Man: (mid-40’s) “So there I am, in center field watching my kid hit the ball off the tee when he lofts one right at me. Hell of a blast…really gotta hold of it. I’m watching it fly right towards us when I see, outta the corner of my eye, two kids racing for it, the center fielder and the right fielder, and they’re on a *&?*&!* collision course, right? BAM! Both kids go down hard. Well I’m the closest so I start running right to ‘em, and I’m yelling for ice cause I think it’s gonna be ugly. So I get there and the kid right at my feet is rolling around in agony, holding his knee and screaming out loud. I take one look at him and he’s got this huge black and blue mark on his forehead, right? I grab the ice pack, cradle his head in my lap, and put the ice right over this big ugly thing on his face.

“Just then his mother runs up, she’s freaking out, the kid’s still crying and yelling about his knee. His Mom starts screaming, ‘What happened? Is he OK? Where did he get hurt?’ you know, all panicked and *&?@. So I tell her hey, little Johnny what’s-his-name here bashed heads with that kid over there. I’ve been icing his forehead, trying to get the swelling down but he keeps holding his knee--I have no idea why. I mean, look at this disgusting bruise on his face. He might need a doctor!

Support for LAist comes from

“The Mother turns to me with a look that would have turned me to stone—‘that’s not a bruise you ass?*&@. That's a birthmark!”

“So I did my best ‘Hey, let’s get the ice on that knee there kiddo…you OK buddy? Nice try on the grab there…great effort…’ and then I got the hell outta there, man. Never been so embarrassed in my life.”

Even two tables over, LAist couldn’t stop laughing.

Most Read