Squish the squasher

I played baseball collegiality and bowled for my university for a semester, and though I'm laid back in my everyday life, I'm somewhat of a balls-to-the-wall a$$hole when it comes to competition (ironically, one of my most memorable a$$holish athletic moments, when I broke a kid's jaw with a high and tight heater, was an honest accident). Most of the time I keep that intensity inside, tucking it in gently somewhere between my cerebellum and my pride. Occasionally, however, that ravenous misfit finds his way out in the form of fist pumps and sounds like "Oh yeah," "hell yes," and other various sayings that might be mistaken for another, non-athletic activity if one had their eyes closed. Unfortunately, it's the curse of the competitor. With that said, I have never, ever got this testosteroney before: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/02/22/trinity-college-squash-wa_n_472073.html .

If you read the articles about this squash match, you'll learn that the smaller fella actually started the taunting. Taken out of context, it looks like Goliath is about to eviscerate, emasculate, and necromate his tiny competitor. Since I blew the sinew out of my shoulder, I haven't been able to take the mound, so I've found another athletic endeavor: racquetball. It's a great workout and an absolute blast when you play someone within your skill-level. It is also very similar to squash. But to me, a competitor in everything from basketball to Scrabble, this Trinity squasher is two racquets short of a restraining order. I love racquetball, but its not the type of sport where one's masculinity should show on the outside; it's a game of touch and placement, more than just a tribute to the brute strength of a good ole fashioned pi$$ing contest. Perhaps it's because I just started playing three years ago, but to me, Goliath needs to check his jockeys. Hopefully, David's slingshot sails low next time.