Glenn Davis, 1993 Triple Play #73

Welp, I'm on the disabled list under pretty embarrassing circumstances. Tuesday night, I got up from my couch too carelessly and whacked the instep of my right foot on the corner of my coffee table. It hurt like the wordsworth at the time (I'm sick of "hurt like the dickens"), but I didn't give it much thought until I took a walk on my lunch break yesterday afternoon. I had some soreness after that, but suddenly by the time I got home I couldn't put any weight on the foot. There was a red, angry-looking splotch just below the ankle, so I spent most of last night trying to keep the foot elevated and icing it. I figured that I could muddle through, but I woke up a few times during the night with throbbing pain in the foot. From 4:00 AM onward, I was unable to get back to sleep. After laying in bed for a few more hours, I got up and dressed and made breakfast on one foot, took some Motrin, and drove my sorry carcass to the doctor.

The diagnosis: a nasty contusion. Nothing broken, probably not even a sprain. All the same, I was sent home with anti-inflammatories, an Ace bandage, and crutches. I wish my bedroom and bathroom weren't on the top floor of the house.

If there's a baseball tie-in here, it's that I probably have little room to make fun of injury-prone bumblers who miss games after falling asleep in a tanning bed or getting nailed with a line drive while sitting in the dugout.