He's out - no, safe!!
I know it's totally cliche of me and "my kind," but I love softball. Who cares if it's inspired by my homo-ness or by my general love of sports or by whatever? I love softball.
Since Sunday afternoon I've been sporting an awesome series of scrapers and gashes on my left leg's upper shin, knee, and on the back of my upper thigh. They're all from the same thing - a slide into third base that would only have been more awesome had I actually been safe. Meh. I was running there from first and the outfielder had to make a perfect throw to get me out....and he did. You can usually bank on them not to because I play in a non-competitive league. Oh well, it's not a real fun game unless you're dirty and/or bloody.
Our Sunday game was awesome, especially for a team that consistently loses and solidly holds onto our last place position in our league. We wore our rally caps proudly and won in the bottom of the final inning, 13-12. I pitched a solid, full game. I've had a few crappy pitching games so far this season, so it was nice to actually feel like I was consistently throwing hittable pitches. I also went 2 for 5, which would have been 4 for 5 had two phenomenal plays not been made by their pitcher and left-fielder. They both caught some line drives in dramatic fashion.
But Sunday's close game reminded me how much I love the game.
I've played it since the 7th grade, when I started off on my church's all-female slow-pitch team. What a great place to start, too. We had quite the age range. I was certainly the youngest, but our pitcher was 80-years-old. Seriously. And she was probably in better shape than most of others on our team and in the league. Her name was Wanda and I certainly learned a ton from her. I also learned an amazing amount from the team's coaches, this awesome husband-wife duo.
My skills were pretty low to begin with. I could barely hit the ball and I got frustrated easily. Through the coaches' teaching and with the help of a softball video (seriously, those sports videos work!), I soon became a consistent hitter and regularly batted lead-off because I could usually get on base.
Then I got the nickname based on a switcharoo of my last name - Mover. I was also called "Wheels." I enjoyed quietly talking trash on the bench with my teammates - which I suppose isn't really talking trash because I joke about it and don't really intimidate anyone. Maybe it's more like "talking recyclables." In any case, if I hit a grounder, your infielders better make sure they don't bobble it. If you do, I'm already on first. I'm happy to report that now a decade later, it's the same.
But on that church team, I loved being the youngest and learning from all the other women - all of whom took me under their wing and remained a fantastic support throughout the season.
We were a pretty bad team when it came to actually winning - but at least we had fun, which is what non-competitive leagues are all about, anyway.
I played on an intramural team in college and experienced the feeling of being on a winning team. It's also where I started pitching. Before that, I played second base. Our college team was without a pitcher, so I thought I'd try it out. And it stuck.
Pitching is still fun to an extent because you have quite the control over the game, but I miss playing other positions. This year I've been able to play outfield and first base a few times, both of which afford a view of the game that I enjoy.
In any case, it's a little saddening that the season is quickly coming to an end. There's always next season, though.
I know it's totally cliche of me and "my kind," but I love softball. Who cares if it's inspired by my homo-ness or by my general love of sports or by whatever? I love softball.
Since Sunday afternoon I've been sporting an awesome series of scrapers and gashes on my left leg's upper shin, knee, and on the back of my upper thigh. They're all from the same thing - a slide into third base that would only have been more awesome had I actually been safe. Meh. I was running there from first and the outfielder had to make a perfect throw to get me out....and he did. You can usually bank on them not to because I play in a non-competitive league. Oh well, it's not a real fun game unless you're dirty and/or bloody.
Our Sunday game was awesome, especially for a team that consistently loses and solidly holds onto our last place position in our league. We wore our rally caps proudly and won in the bottom of the final inning, 13-12. I pitched a solid, full game. I've had a few crappy pitching games so far this season, so it was nice to actually feel like I was consistently throwing hittable pitches. I also went 2 for 5, which would have been 4 for 5 had two phenomenal plays not been made by their pitcher and left-fielder. They both caught some line drives in dramatic fashion.
But Sunday's close game reminded me how much I love the game.
I've played it since the 7th grade, when I started off on my church's all-female slow-pitch team. What a great place to start, too. We had quite the age range. I was certainly the youngest, but our pitcher was 80-years-old. Seriously. And she was probably in better shape than most of others on our team and in the league. Her name was Wanda and I certainly learned a ton from her. I also learned an amazing amount from the team's coaches, this awesome husband-wife duo.
My skills were pretty low to begin with. I could barely hit the ball and I got frustrated easily. Through the coaches' teaching and with the help of a softball video (seriously, those sports videos work!), I soon became a consistent hitter and regularly batted lead-off because I could usually get on base.
Then I got the nickname based on a switcharoo of my last name - Mover. I was also called "Wheels." I enjoyed quietly talking trash on the bench with my teammates - which I suppose isn't really talking trash because I joke about it and don't really intimidate anyone. Maybe it's more like "talking recyclables." In any case, if I hit a grounder, your infielders better make sure they don't bobble it. If you do, I'm already on first. I'm happy to report that now a decade later, it's the same.
But on that church team, I loved being the youngest and learning from all the other women - all of whom took me under their wing and remained a fantastic support throughout the season.
We were a pretty bad team when it came to actually winning - but at least we had fun, which is what non-competitive leagues are all about, anyway.
I played on an intramural team in college and experienced the feeling of being on a winning team. It's also where I started pitching. Before that, I played second base. Our college team was without a pitcher, so I thought I'd try it out. And it stuck.
Pitching is still fun to an extent because you have quite the control over the game, but I miss playing other positions. This year I've been able to play outfield and first base a few times, both of which afford a view of the game that I enjoy.
In any case, it's a little saddening that the season is quickly coming to an end. There's always next season, though.
posted by H at
12:06 PM
1 Comments:
There are more reasons than softball that you should be here, but ever since I arrived home, it's been almost non-stop Astros games on the TV and/or radio-- and whenever they're *not* playing, it's Rangers, and then whoever's the biggest current competitor for the previously mentioned Houston team. There *is* something nostalgic about it-- probably because I spent a good portion of my childhood in the Astrodome or Rangers stadium, and that of a San Antonio farm team when everything else'd been sold out-- or at my sister's 7,000 softball games. I'll stop rambling.
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