Aw Kige, I Feel Your Pain

Once I got past the sheer hilarity of the seriousness with which he imparts his advice, and the absurdity with which he throws, I was left with an empty feeling in my stomach.

Kige doesn’t have anybody to throw to. He’s gotta turn off the camera, then go chase after the ball he just threw. And if he fucked up his line, who knows how many times he would have to do that.

Watching these videos in that light brought me back to my childhood and I started thinking about all the Aw-you-don’t-have-any-friends-toys my parents bought for me. I’m sure you all remember the Pitch-back, you didn’t need anyone else to play with — you could just play with yourself.

The Christmas after I got a Pitch-back, I got a Mr. Quarterback passing machine, so I could just lay the ball in its cradle arm, cock it back, select a pattern, set the timer, and go out for a pass. If I kept running until that fucking thing threw the ball, I’d still be running. It worked about as well as the Joe Namath electric football game I had. And on more than one occasion, I brought my baseball mitt to the batting cages. There’s nothing like paying to play catch.

Hell I’m convinced I lettered in bowling (yes, you read that correctly) because there was a mechanism that brought the ball back to me.

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One Response to “Aw Kige, I Feel Your Pain”

  1. Wow, that douche reminds me of a combination between Napoleon Dynamite and Butters from South Park.