97º

I've been making some progress in my physical therapy. Today I was able to get my range of motion up to 97º. Sure I was in some of the worst pain of my life and was squirming like ... uh, I don't know, something that squirms a lot. Maybe a kid trying to escape a high chair. No, that's no good. How about like Barry Bonds testifying before congress. No, that's too dated. I'm just too sore now to come up with a quality simile.

But the point is ... I guess I forgot that too. I guess the point is no pain, no gain. This has been a long, drawn out ordeal and my goal now is to one day punch Alvarez again. That, and I guess regain normal use of my hand. It just seems like it is taking an eternity to approach normalcy, and I could still have a month or more of physical therapy still ahead of me. I want to get out and try golfing and tennis soon.

And since I made the mistake of turning on the Mariner game, I've completely lost my train of thought and let me just say this: these guys sure hit into a hell of a lot of double plays. And a lot of them are really slow. And they really need to get rid of Vidro, Washburn, and Batista.