I have never played softball before in my life. I have never played most “-balls” before in my life. If I did sports, they were the kind where you don’t really need other people to accomplish anything.
I had to get my friend Nae to give me private lessons. She taught me really important things: like how to catch, which way to hold my arms when I’m at-bat, and who to throw the ball to if I ever actually have it in my possession.
These are all important things to know in softball.
The first game I spent in the dugout, observing. I had the company of the two lovely children who belonged to our fabulous first-base-woman. We laughed, we cried, we cheered. They were better cheerleaders than me. I got tired. They had snacks to keep them energized.
Our team lost.
We took it hard.
The next game, I played. I was in outfield. I can’t be sure, but I know that I was in the side of the outfield that gets a lot of hits.
I spent a lot of time running after balls.
We lost that game, too.
There were only two games before the season ended. (The season is done.) I know this doesn’t seem like much, but there’s only three teams in the “league.” So two games were all we could do.
It’s good that it’s done. I can finish my career on an amazing “wow, she’s actually a lot better than I expected” high, rather than a sad streak of disappointment.
I kind of wish there were more games, though. There’s not much else like playing ball under Friday night lights in the hot, dry Mexas evenings, to the rabid cheers of grown women desperate for a win. And the post-game beers are fun, too.
I was just getting the hang of this…