Why I hate baseball.

When I got out of Newswriting today, I had a missed call and voicemail from an unfamiliar 919 number. I hit dial, punched in my pin, and pressed '1'. On came a fuzzy, slightly incoherent message. All I could make out was that it was an officer from the UNC Department of Public Safety calling about my silver Hyundai Sonata. Fear gripped my body as I stopped to think about what might have happened to Kate (yes, I've named my car). Perhaps she was towed. But that didn't make sense - I parked her in her parking space last night. Maybe she was stolen. Unlikely - how would the police have known she was mine? Then a thought popped into my head - they must have the wrong guy. I was wrong.

I called DPS and told them I was responding to a voicemail about my Hyundai. They then transferred me to the officer who called me - Officer Gaston. Officer Gaston informed me that Kate had a cracked windshield - from a ball hit by the UNC men's baseball team. He took down my information and told me I could pick up the police report tomorrow morning.

Here's what I want to know: who the heck is paying for this? The officer assured me that I'd have to cover this independently through my own insurance company.  I plan to call the Athletic Department pronto. I mean, do you know how much money they have? I sure hope they do the honorable thing and pay for the damages to my car.

Wish me luck as I fight against the system.