Softball

I attended my very first ever softball practice tonight.  It was four athletic guys, one girl who plays on two other softball teams, and me.

How new at this am I?  I had to buy a glove.  I bought a glove for lefties. I never used it before today.  Turns out, although a write with my left hand, I throw better with my right. Who knew? I borrowed another glove and played on. (Thank goodness the sporting goods store let me exchange mine -- I stopped on the way home.)

I lost the ball in the sun and got hit in the chest. I also got nailed in the arm.  Once, diving away from an inside pitch, I got hit in the finger. Oh, I also took a shot to my left boob. My left hand is sore -- a glove affords less protection than one would think.  My shoulders hurt. Gonna take some Advil. There is no crying in softball.

Everyone has a nickname or two.  Cupcakes (also Highlight Reel), Jeter (also Primadonna), Rep., Boss, MVP.

No nickname for me yet.  I'm hoping to at least avoid a moniker synonymous with failure. So far, so good. Why?  I accidentally caught the ball on at least three occasions.  I purposefully caught it more often than that, but the three occasions people cheered because the play looked good, it was more serendipity than skill.  At bat, I repeatedly made contact with the ball ... and would have effectively grounded out to first on every play.   But everyone was so happy that I was making contact.

Important life lesson:  When you set the bar low, you never disappoint anyone.