Q: What does an out-of-shape, 23-year-old sports reporter in Huntington, W.Va., have in common with Sammy Sosa and Joel Zumaya?

A: 1) When backed into a corner, I pretend I don't speak English.
    2) I hurt my back in a lame way.

Let me preface this by stating I am not much of a video game guy.  I fit the demographic--and I love sitting on the couch doing nothing--but, short of Tecmo Bowl on regular Nintendo (c. 1985), I just never got into it.

But in the early morning hours of Feb. 21, I made a spur-of-the-moment exit of Interstate 64 and purchased a Wii and Wii Fit.  My parents got it for Christmas.  Bill Murray, always "the first" to try anything new, has had one for months.  It was time for me to join the craze.

Beating WOWK's Jared Fialko in Wii Golf notwithstanding, this game system is quite addicting for solo use.  So in my "Wii Sports Training," I decided to play home run derby left handed--hey, I needed the work.

My body has been sore for a few weeks, but Wii put it over the top.  I selected to hit left-handed.  A few pitches in, I hit a foul ball.  I was on my knees before the next pitch.

My girlfriend and I went to see the matinee of Slumdog Millionaire that afternoon.  Popcorn and pain pills go together like beads and Bourbon Street (it was Fat Tuesday, after all).

David Withers at the Family Medicine Center & Urgent Care diagnosed a "lumbar strain" Wednesday afternoon.  As a result, I'm on the 15-day disabled list at WSAZ: No lifting anything weighing more than 10 pounds for two weeks.

So I'm kind of a cross between Joel Zumaya and Sammy Sosa.  Detroit fireballer Zumaya inflamed his right arm after playing "too much Guitar Hero."   He was held out of the 2006 ALCS.  Sammy Sosa missed a game in 2004 after a violent sneezing fit led to "back spasms."

So, Cal Ripken, Jr., I am not.  I am far away from 2,632 consecutive days of shooting news and sports.

Doctors and nurses I've talked to have heard of "Wii Knee" and have heard stories of controllers going through TV sets.  But this was a first to Withers.

Next stop: physical therapy.  So the next time John Smoltz burns himself ironing...a shirt he was wearing, I'll bite my tougue.  I'll just be sure I'm sitting down first.