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Ordek Avci wrote:True Story:

My dad played slow pitch softball for many years. He had a great group of characters that were pretty decent at times and funny as heck all the time. One of the guys was from Upstate New York and one of the biggest rednecks you've ever met. One night I was having a bad night. I was 0-3 with a strikeout and had dropped a few balls in the field. I was cussing mad, and proclaimed that it was the worst night you could possibly have. Junior called me over to sit next to him on the bench and explained, "It could always be worse." "How?" I asked.

He then proceeded to tell me how he was having an equally bad night. 0 for whatever at the plate, had a hole in his glove, etc. So one inning he's in the field, playing second base, and a line drive is hit his way. Trying his best to redeem himself from the bad play earlier, he is determined to catch this one. But Junior is a short fella and the ball is headed over his head. So he jumps as high as he can and reaches for the stars. It grazes his glove and continues on into right center. When Junior lands, he's facing the outfield, and thinking of how this was the worst night ever. It couldn't get any worse.

But then it did. As he turned to go cover second, he realized that in his effort to catch the line drive, he had seriously soiled himself. Once the play was over, he waddled over to the porta-potty without a sound, disposed of his underwear, cleaned himself up, and just went home without saying a word. Of course, it was plain to see, and to smell, what had happened, and everyone enjoyed a gut busting laugh over the whole event.

And Junior's moral of the story, that he was passing on to me?

It could always be worse. At leats you didn't *!@#@* on yourself.