To discuss the need to isolate myself from athletic danger

UPDATED! (see jump) I'm headed to a picnic this afternoon. I'm scared to see what happens. If it's anything like recent precedent, I will force someone to crumple to the ground like the Wicked Witch under running water. I'm a one-man wrecking crew.
This weekend has been fun so far, but I had no idea how dangerous I can be.
On Friday night, I played volleyball at the mega-church I usually go to; they play every other week, with adults of all ages. Me being one of the younger, more athletic types, I jump around for every ball near me, and usually get to them. Let's just say Keri Walsh saw me play and briefly considered retirement.
That's all good, but, because people of all skill levels play, there are others around me who don't jump as high or move as quick. Halfway through the night, on my six-person team, I'm playing in the front-middle. The other team hits a ball that is floating above the night, slightly to my left. I leap for it with all the athleticism and vigor of a caged tiger. Except, so did the middle-aged mom next to me, who doesn't jump nearly as high.
I got so high above her that I landed on her head. Knocked her straight to the ground. After briefly peeing my pants and deciding if it was best to first grab some ice, run straight for my car or call a lawyer, everyone crowded around this poor woman whose face became an impromptu La-Z-Boy for my ass. Luckily, she didn't hit her head on the ground, and she ended up just feeling woozy.
What do you say to someone like that, beyond 'Sorry I almost snapped your neck off with my overzealous leaping." The best (worst?) part is, the other mom playing on my team did everything she could the rest of the game not to get near me. At one point, I had to dive for a ball near her and she screamed like I had punched baby Jesus. Yep, the kid's still got that magic touch with the ladies.
Then yesterday, after my fantasy football draft (Oh, you'll get a post on that this week. I'm going to explain why guys love fantasy football so much), I went to my brother's town for his company picnic.
First thing to note- my brother lives in an area with lots of Mennonites/Amish- lots of buggies, lots of beards, no cleavage. Actually, I wonder what counts as scandalous for the womenfolk. Wearing a 3/4 length dress? Anyway- his Mennonite coworkers are all friendly, even though I broke tradition by wearing shorts and shaving. I also so many Rice Krispie treats at the picnic I felt like my stomach would snap, crackle and pop all over a bystander.
But then, danger struck again. It was company softball time. After a few innings, I'm up to bat for the third time. I smoked a grounder to the shortstop. His throw was a bit off first base, coming toward the home plate side. Meanwhile, I'm flying down the line so fast Bob Costas had to interrupt Olympic coverage to provide live footage, and out of the corner of my eye I see the ball whizzing toward my head.
No, I didn't get hit in the head. The first basemen, my brother's co-worker, lunges to catch it. By doing so, he jumped right in front of me, and I plunged my left arm into his side as I tried to get around him. For the second time in two days, I looked down and saw someone rolling around on the ground. I might start calling my left arm the "Painmaker" (the right one is used for eating, writing and pleasuring.)
It wasn't terrible, but I still knocked the wind out of him.
On the plus side, I was safe at first. On the down side, I don't think I can play at their picnics again and I might have a bounty on my head.
Today, there's another picnic. Volleyball will be played. Should I play? Will There Be Blood? I wonder if a stretcher will be involved.

Update: Four people got hit in the head with the ball during volleyball today. Four. But, mercifully, none by "Painmaker." I escaped without causing harm to anyone else. Of course, what I failed to mention in the above section about softball was that at one point, I had to slide under the tag at home. Yeah, I left a skin graft all over that plate. My leg looks like a Texas Chainsaw Massacre prop. But I was safe. And, for a guy, that's all that matters.*
Now, I'm beat. That was one long weekend. To lift my spirits about savaging innocent lives, I watched "300" as they brutally slash thousands of Persians into tiny flesh carpets. It really is a glorious movie. It's a shame we don't fight wars like that anymore. More spears. Less weapons of mass destruction.
My Fantasy Football explanation will be posted soon. And there's a special surprise coming this weekend for my one month blogaversary.**

* That, and avoiding erectile dysfunction.
** The surprise does not involve Bob Saget, either of the Hilton sisters or Magic: The Gathering. Sorry.