"Batter Up"

Last year my family had the idea that we all needed to form a softball team and join the local recreation league. I am one of five children and we have, of course, had additions over the years of children and spouses.

When all was said and done the team consisted of my two sisters, two brothers, brother-in-law, nephew, niece, nephew's girlfriend, friend, friend's daughter, son-in-law, two of my nephews college baseball teammates, and myself.

Everyone agreed that we would do it, and we even committed to actual practices a few times a week. We paid our fees, assigned numbers, ordered our jerseys, and bought gloves and cleats.

I even went the extra mile and bought myself a softball bat, with Jenny somebodies name on it, that cost me nearly a hundred dollars. (I knew I'd need all the help that I could get.)

After I acquired the new bat I had to purchase a Nike equipment bag to put it in, and my husband, knowing me like he does, took it while I was at work one day and had my initials and number embroidered on it in pink. I was ready to play.

We held a few leisurely practices and then came our first game. Good Lord, we couldn't have been any worse if we had been coached by Walter Matthau. I have to say whoever said that 40 was the new 30 had never seen most 40 year olds participating in an athletic event.

We were a hot mess! My position was behind first base, I think it's called left field but I'm not sure. I knew that my ability to catch pop flies was doubtful at most, but I was thinking ahead. I immediately befriended one of the college players and he promised to play near me and "have my back" so to speak.

He and I formulated a two part plan. It was as follows; 1. If it comes right to me, pick it up and throw it to him. 2. If it comes anywhere near him, he has it, get out of the way. Perfect! His name is Stephen, and I still love that kid.

There was one thing that did catch me by surprise, and that was what serious business recreational softball has become. The umpires called the games like they were working at Turner Field. They barked out the strikes, and yelled "OUT" loud enough to cause someone to lose their hearing. They weren't very friendly either, to be perfectly honest.

I don't know if some of the pitchers I faced thought that they were pitching in the bottom of the 9Th in the World Series, or if this was just my perception combined with my lack of athletic ability. I do know that trying to get a hit off of one of them was like trying to get a president to be monogamous...not going to happen.

The other teams were vicious. Many of the men were pompous and full of bad attitude, and several of the women looked like linebackers from the NFL just trying to occupy themselves during the off season. They had zero concept of ladylike. I even saw a few of them spit.

I admit we used our share of Icy Hot and we nearly ran the three college guys to death, but they were good sports about it, and overall we had a great time. I don't know when I've laughed as much, even with all the losses.

By seasons end our team had managed to win one or two games, and we created memories that are priceless. So even though most of us, including me, have sworn off of team sports as a safety precaution, and the next time we hear "batter up" we'll be in the stands, we left the ballpark after our last game with both a feeling of relief and one of being grateful to have had the experience.