Last week, both my children spontaineously decided they were in need of “athletic cups”. It may have been the ball that one stopped with his jaw, due to the fact his glove was turned the wrong way, that got them thinking about an extra level of protection. So, off we went to Dick’s Sporting Goods. Of course, never having played baseball, and lacking male body parts, I couldn’t really advise them. So, I asked the worker guy. His exact quote was, “I can help you with the cup, but not the size”. I said, “What?”. He said, “I can show you the ones for their age, but that’s as far as I go”. I felt like I was asking him for his kidney or something. On an aisle with five different versions of cups, I pored over these things, the same way I would shoes at T.J. Maxx. They all looked yucky and uncomfortable and I could not imagine actually putting one on and trying to hit a ball, or run somewhere. But, who was I to keep them from their, “private protector”, so aptly named by my youngest.
The first game with the “private protector” was the next afternoon. There was much modesty about dressing and putting these objects on, with several trials of underwear arrangement, etc,. But finally, my youngest had his in place and was feeling well fortified. My oldest was dancing around, grimacing. After rearranging many layers of underwear, including the one that “came with” the “cup”, all was well. And they went on to win the game, one even earning the game ball that night.
But, here we are, three games later and the hideous looking plastic things haven’t been worn again. For now, they’ve been banished to the bottom of their underwear drawer, alongside the bicycle gloves and the under-eye, black stuff. I guess it’s all about the accessories. Maybe in the spring….