Read Curveball : The Year I Lost My Grip (9780545393119) for Free Online Page B

driving toward the hoop, while I sat there trying to follow what Elena Zubritskaya had to do with Angelika, or with AJ’s imaginary secret hot-girl boot camp. AJ isn’t a big fan of silence, though, so eventually he started lecturing me again. “So you see, Pete, that’s how I know this Angelika babe is bent on dominating and controlling your mind.”
    â€œAnd what do you think I’m supposed to do about this?”
    He tried a behind-the-back layup, watched the ball rattle around the rim before rolling off, and said, “Any control you think you have is an illusion. I recommend you just let it happen.”
    I pondered this for a while. Then I picked out what I thought was one of the bigger gaping flaws in his so-called logic. “OK, then. Let’s just say Elena has suddenly been endowed with some kind of Victoria’s Secret mojo.”
    â€œOh, she has. She totally has.”
    â€œWhatever. She’s not using it on any one specific guy, right? She’s just captivating every guy in sight.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo, even if I think Angelika might be flirting with me specifically, she’s probably not. She’s probably just using her femi-mind tricks on everyone, and I happen to be sitting next to her in one of her classes.” I couldn’t help but notice that, despite the blatant insanity of this whole discussion, AJ now had me using his daffy new word. I swear, he’s insidious.
    â€œWell, then, either she is flirting with you deliberately, or she’s flirting with you deliberately. Which means she is, in fact, flirting with you deliberately.”
    â€œWha-a-at?”
    â€œSee, if she weren’t, you wouldn’t wonder if she was. But you are wondering, which means she is.”
    I pinched the bridge of my nose right above my glasses. My head was starting to hurt. “Even assuming that she is interested in me, why in the world would she be? We just met. I don’t know anythingabout her, and she doesn’t know anything about me. We’ve barely even talked.”
    â€œThat’s perfect. You’re a mysterious stranger on a train.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œWomen like mysterious guys. Trust me: It’s well-known.”
    â€œWell, what happens when I stop being a stranger on a train? I mean, after all this flirting, won’t she eventually get to know me?”
    â€œYeah, so?”
    â€œWon’t that be the end of the mystery?”
    â€œSure, but then she’ll like you for all of your studly attributes.”
    â€œLike what? My commanding five feet of height? My keen eyesight?”
    â€œNo, you’re an athlete. Women love athletes.”
    Again with the insensitiveness. Insensitivity? Whatever, here was AJ, blundering in and stomping on my biggest sore spot. “Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not an athlete anymore.”
    â€œYes, you are. You’re an injured athlete. They love that, too. You’re like a wounded bird she can nurse back to health.”
    â€œBut what if I’m never nursed back to health? The doctor said I might not pitch again.” Actually, I was being dishonest. The doctor had flat-out said that I WOULD never pitch again.
    â€œMeh, he was wrong.”
    I glared. AJ ignored. “I’m serious, Pete. And even if he was right, you just won’t pitch. You can be our catcher.”
    â€œ Our catcher?”
    â€œYou know, on the JV team.”
    â€œFirst of all, I can’t play catcher, either. What if someone is stealing second base? How am I supposed to throw the ball down? What am I going to do, send it there by FedEx?”
    â€œOK, you can play first, then. Lots of lefties play first. Plus, none of this will matter, because you’re going to be fine. If doctors knew everything, they wouldn’t get sued for malpractice, would they?”
    AJ didn’t get it. I would still have to throw the ballsometimes, even to play first.