In the medieval age of baseball, it was not uncommon for players to lose a limb or two, sometimes three.

My baseball career was cut short when I got beaned in the head running to first base. Before you judge me as some sort of prim panty-waisted asshole, this was a time before we wore helmets, and the baseball was made of solid iron, many years before they were hollowed out.

I was knocked out good, as in brain dead for a few years, or as the kids say, “in a serious coma”. If not for the miracle of modern science, I can guarantee that I would not be here today.

Keep in mind, back before my life forever changed, I was never comfortable with science. In fact, like Stephen Quincy Urkel’s catchphrase, “Did I do that?” mine was, “What have you done for me lately, science?” I said it as often as I could to get a response.

I would later learn that I was living the life of a Luddite without all the protesting. It is why I chose baseball for my profession. It was devoid of science.

Imagine my embarrassment after learning that baseball is really a series of science contained within the format of competition. I felt like I was getting smacked in the head all over again.

I’m what you would call born again. It’s difficult to imagine what silly tripe I was thinking before my brilliant transformation. Praise science, for with science, all things are possible.