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On Friday, an announcement was made that rocked the sporting
world to its very core. A proclamation that had people rioting in the streets
in some towns where folks had a little too much time on their hands prior to the
long Labor Day weekend.
After a
nearly 14-year long hiatus, one of the worst, nay THE worst baseball/softball
player of all time would be returning to the field in the comeback attempt that
literally no one asked for and most would have preferred to avoid.
Myself.
Me. I.
That’s
right, on Friday, I decided to pick up my glove, place it back on my head,
which is where it goes if I remember my time in little league correctly and
join my company softball team.
I’ve
had a powerful and wholly inexplicable hankering to get back out on the diamond
in recent weeks. Part of it may stem from seeing my girlfriend coach a grade
school girls softball team this past spring. Part of it may stem from seeing
her play in a league of her own like two summers ago.
So I
can’t say with any level of certainty what’s driven me to this state, but I do
know that even though I’ve been traditionally an at-best Hiroshima-scale
disaster of a ball player, I’ve always enjoyed the idea of playing the game.
Running
around outside in nice weather. Throwing the old ball around. Swinging a bat.
Munching sunflower seeds. What’s not to love?
Just
when it comes to physically trying to do those things, the wheels tend to come
flying off in a spectacular display of sheer ineptitude and failure the likes
of which hasn’t been seen since Judas’ ill-advised April Fool’s prank on the big
J.C. all those years ago.
My last
time on an organized baseball/softball team – and for the purposes of this
entry, I’m just going to go ahead and treat those two sports like they’re the
same thing – came in the Spring of my 7th grade year. Or as I noted
earlier, about 14 years ago.
By
then, I’d managed to suppress my natural urge to wear my glove on my head, but
it hadn’t made me any better of a ball player.
I was relegated
to left field (Editor's note: I now realize I was playing right field that whole time, a good indication of my mental state/awareness during that era), which is where the coaches had correctly deduced I’d be able to
do the least amount of damage. I don’t remember catching any balls that year,
but if one rolled slowly my way, I did almost always manage to pick it up on
the very first try.
That
uninspiring defensive effort was trumped only by my legendary lack of success
at the plate. I reached base exactly two times that season. Literally every
other plate appearance was a strike out or ground out.
The first time I reached base was
because I was hit by a pitch. I remember
it vividly: it was a night game, I got plunked on the elbow. I stood at home
plate for a second or two because I had the wherewithal to know I hadn’t struck
out yet and that’s how plate appearances typically ended for me. The umpire
shooed me to first base and as I jogged towards the base, I felt like Babe
Ruth, Mickey Mantle and Kevin Costner in that baseball movie combined. I was a
golden god.
Something happened and somehow I ended
up on second base. My memory must get fuzzy due to the volume of adrenaline
that was pumping through my veins at that moment.
I looked to third base and my heart
exploded. Figuratively exploded. The coach had flashed the “Steal sign.” That
was way too much pressure so I did what anyone who’d never gotten on base
before and who wanted to enjoy every second of it before heading back to the
dugout in shame: I ignored the shit out of him. After the next pitch, he raised
his arms in the traditional “What’s up?” sign and flashed the steal sign again.
I stopped looking at him after that. The man clearly had to have been drunk.
The inning ended and so did my career as a presumed base-stealer.
The second and final time I got on
base that season was because I was walked- completely accidentally, of course.
I remember sliding into home plate on that trip around the bases but it wasn’t
nearly that dramatic. Somehow, I’d moved around the bases and someone had sent
the ball into the far reaches of the outfield. When I did my slide, there was a
good chance the ball wasn’t even in the outfielder’s glove. I panicked and
assumed it must be screaming towards me a 100+mph.
Our team gave out two awards, the
MVP award, given to the best player on the team, and the other was a sort of
hodgepodge award for most “hustle,” “sportsmanship” or “most improved player.”
It was all kind of lumped together into one category. Still, whatever buzzy
terms the coaches applied to it, us kids all knew what it meant: It was for the
kid who had the least amount of business ever stepping foot on a baseball field
and who everyone was just happy hadn’t managed to kill him or herself during
the course of the season.
I didn’t
win that one either.
That award went to the dorkiest kid in our
grade school class. Looking back, he was a nice enough kid, but at the time he
was weird and awkward enough to be just complete social pariah.
He also almost rivaled my lack of
baseball prowess, however he’d had one highlight reel play that season, which
was one more than I’d had, unless you count non-verbally telling the third base
coach to go suck an egg when he tried to make me steal.
During one of our games, this kid,
who was stuck out in right field, had a white-hot line drive rocketed squarely
at him. He essentially had two options on the play: either have a baseball
embed itself in his nasal cavity or catch it. There wasn’t even enough time for
him to completely dive out of the way.
So he did the only sensible thing:
he closed his eyes, threw up his glove and somehow, perhaps through divine
intervention, caught the ball.
Losing the “didn’t get yourself
killed” award was where my baseball softball career ended … until now.
I’m excited for the chance to try
playing ball again. I’ll probably fail, but it’ll be fun to meet some more of
my new co-workers and even better, I heard the team might not be all that great
anyway, so at least I won’t be ruining any dynasties.
I’ll be chronicling each embarrassment
I endure right here, so be sure to check back regularly for updates.
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