EARLIER THIS FALL, the day before my 43rd birthday, I fell off an e-scooter and tore my labrum. It was raining, and I was listening to a basketball podcast—dumb and dumber. But I wasn’t going all that fast, and I wasn’t trying to land a trick. I was on a quiet street. I hit a bump, skidded, clipped my dumb stupid foot on the scooter as I hopped off, and landed on my right forearm, causing my shoulder to bend in a direction my body would consider unnatural. I didn’t even land that hard, but when you’re a day shy of 43, you can tear your labrum falling from a standstill. Luckily, I’m left-handed, and at this age, honestly, who needs two working labrums? Not me! I’m not Jacob DeGrom. All I do is type.
Some of you might consider this a comeuppance. You might consider my tumble a message from God telling me that I’m wrong about e-scooters.
Sorry, God, you’re wrong.
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