I, Henry Rowengartner, Am Begging You To Stop Trying To Re-Break My Arm
When I was 12, I broke my arm. I was trying to impress a couple of babes after school when I slipped on a baseball. I don’t really remember the exact details, although a kid who was huffing paint in the parking lot told me he thought an airplane engine fell from the sky. That’s how high I was…and he was.
If you grew up in Chicago or if you watched baseball at all in 1993, you know the rest. My arm healed in a fucked up way that allowed me to throw 100 miles per hour. The Cubs signed me to throw cheddar which I did on a regular basis. I didn’t even need a second pitch, that’s how much pop my fastball had.
I was embarrassing grown men on a regular basis which I honestly didn’t mean to do. I was just a kid having a great time. But they were pissed. One guy told me he was going to slash my bike tires (lol), another told me if I didn’t groove one in for him that he would make sure my future orthodontist screwed my braces on “extra tight.” I’m not sure they realized I was 12 and could handle a simple ‘I’ll fuck you up, bro.’
Anyways, as quickly as the superpower came, it went away. I slipped on another baseball (I’m a clumsy fuck, I don’t know what else to say) and my arm was back to throwing lasagna plates and that was that. I didn’t mind. I liked baseball but playing in the majors as a middle schooler kind of sucked. Sure I got to be in a few National Commercials but I also had to listen to 30 year-old-men talk about “a grundle rash that just wouldn’t go away.”
So I went back to playing little league in my jeans and hitting .185. Back to pressing up, down, up, down, up, down on the TV remote to get the Spice channel to go un-blurry. Back to ripping heaters in my friend’s basement and blaming it on his older brother, Kyle. I was happy.
But then something strange happened. People kept trying to re-break my arm! Every time a pitcher went down on the Cubs, somebody would stick out their leg and try to get me to snap my radius. They’d say “We need you Henry!” or “Do it for us!” People always talk about how nice Midwesterners are but these were truly some sick fucks.
I mean on what planet is it ok to try and break someone’s arm!?! And it wasn’t just the students. Kerry Wood invited me to what I thought was just a casual lunch when he put me in a headlock and threatened to throw me down the stairs. “We just need one more arm. ONE MORE ARM!” I’ll never remember him yelling “one more arm” as my mozzarella sticks arrived to the table.
Baseball season would end as it always does and people would settle down. Until around March when everyone remembered that the ice would soon thaw and we would be back on the diamond and guess what?! “Let’s push Henry in front of a bus again!”
It unfortunately wasn’t just about the Cubs. In 10th grade, the new Varsity Baseball coach at my high school hip checked me into a locker. My arm didn’t break but I did shit my pants in from of Becky Capoletti. So thank you for that.
I made it through high school with my arm somehow intact. A couple of bone bruises but nothing major. I left the state for college but no matter where I went some drunk assbag recognized me. My freshman year RA threw a frozen Busch Light off my neck because he’s a moron with terrible aim.
Even now, I just turned 40 and people will still ask if maybe, they can gently, snap my arm in half to help the company softball team. It doesn’t even make any sense, it’s a slow pitch underhand league with 8 games per year. But it doesn’t matter, people are addicted to trying to break my arm again.
Now I don’t write this to sound unappreciative. I was happy to get the once in a lifetime gift of pitching in the Major Leagues at 12 years old. But my arm healing incorrectly did leave some lingering ailments. For example, if it’s below 40 degrees I can’t feel my pinky or my thumb. I’m not talking about a light tingle, it’s like they don’t exist. You ever try to wipe your ass with just your three middle fingers? Scout’s Honor to get shit all over your wrist.
I write to tell you that Henry Rowengartner is doing ok. I’m trying my best to enjoy life and I think I’m doing pretty well. I just had my 40th birthday party and we had a nice little get together where a magician did card tricks and yep, I smoked a couple of heaters in the basement for old times sake.
So if you see me out on the street please feel free to say hello, or take a picture, but please, do not try to break my arm. It fucking hurts.
