Softball

My recollections from playing softball for four years when I was little (I quit when I was 12) are as follows:

1) Getting a bloody nose trying to catch a fly ball during practice (I learned how to wash blood out of cotton that day). That was the last time I had no fear of the ball.

2) Praying for hits (hey, I used to be really Catholic. Also, it always worked, which made me feel like Moses at the time and now makes me worry for my eternal soul)

3) My teammates getting pissed at my dad, first base coach, when he complimented the first base-woman (on the opposing team) on the play that she'd made.

4) Missing a throw-in, or having the girl in center field miss it (this was a LONG time ago), and us throwing it back and forth because neither one wanted to take responsibility for that terrible play.

5) Playing catcher my first season, having a player score on me and holding the ball instead of throwing it to 2nd, as there were still runners. My coach came out and he was so frustrated. He said something like, "Christy, you were supposed to... Oh, never mind."

I was as surprised as anyone, given my experiences (and the fact that i begged and begged my parents to let me quit softball), that I agreed to play on a team when asked. I kinda pulled a Dad (my dad is notorious for signing up for a billion things because participation just isn't what it used to be) and fell for the "we need more women for the team!"

I had butterflies in my stomach all day over the game tonight. It didn't help that my muscles were already sore just from the two hour practice the day before. I was worried I wouldn't even make it through a game!

I had my first at-bat during the second inning. I wasn't sure about this stuff, especially after cringing over home plate through two innings (people swing bats fast! right over my head!!!). But, I swung at my first pitch and sent a beauty of a line drive out. I promised myself earlier that I wouldn't stare at any hits I made, but I totally stared at it (i can't believe i just hit a line drive!) and watched as it went right into the second baseman's glove.

I also got an out, fielding a grounder. It was funny, he was right about where I was when I grabbed the ball, so I didn't bother to throw the forced out; I tagged him. The leader of my team gave me a thumbs-up.

The most surprising part of it was that, somewhere during the hour that we were on the field, I discovered I was having fun. I enjoyed playing as part of a team again. Maybe this is part of growing up: you start liking softball.

(for those keeping track: we got spanked. i believe the final score was something like 17-6. i think i was the only one there who wasn't bothered a bit. i'm not really a team player, i just play one at work)