Softball Season has begun.
Although it has been several years since I have been to a live game and even several more years since I have actually played the game, I still like to consider myself a Softball Player.
I started playing at the age of six and continued on throughout school and even into my early twenties while living in the nearby 'big city'.
I have played every base as well as the far far outfielder, back catcher, and short stop , along with a very short and unsuccessful try out for the position of pitcher.
The Pitcher. That sacred and coveted position of every team eluded me. I could throw overhand with a force and accuracy of any of my male schoolmates 'zinging' it straight over the head of the pitcher to second base for a surprize 'out'. I would slide head / feet/ fingers first to homeplate to score. I would 'run down' a batter in the soup until they were forced back to their team bench. I could isntinctively decide which base to throw the ball to execute a double play. There wasn't a hit ball that I wouldn't attempt to stop either with my glove, shins, or even mouth (I still have the cracked front tooth), but I could not pass the Pitcher Try Out.
I am not sure why I could not attain that goal. Perhaps I couldn't concentrate on the traditional three step / pitch rule which seemed to be required to throw the ball at the magic mid way section of the batter/base/ and umpire line of sight. It might have been the taunts and encouragement from teammates and spectators such as " Chuck it in there Big Chucker" , "She Can't Pitch" , and "Let Her Walk You" ringing in my ears that affected my poor and unpredictable aim.
Or perhaps...and I try not to be biased about this..it was because I wasn't 'Cool'. Now I know coaches, teachers, and managers are to be immune from being effected by social coolness that is found in all genograms in any demographic study ; but I firmly believe that something makes these people, the truly 'Cool' ones, just emimnate some sort of energy that makes them the captains, social conveyors, fashion icons, cheerleaders and PITCHERS if they so choose. Maybe pitching skills at the amateur level did require finally coiffed hair, clear skin, stylish jeans, and cute little Size 7 running shoes. If that was the case 40 years ago, it still is so today, as my daughters were rarely ever the pitchers on their teams .
Whatever the reason, and probably for the best of the team, I was never the pitcher for longer than 2 innings a season...and that would only be if the regular pitcher was sick, or participating in some other more important activity such as singing in a music festival or attending a ceremony where she was receiving recognition for her figure skating performance the winter prior.
All bitterness aside, the game of softball is a wonderful activity both for the players and the spectators. The game can be enjoyed by everyone in the whole family with the right amount of mosquito repellant and sun block applied. There is no other sound in the world that quite matches the crack of the bat, the rising cheers, the chants and shouts of 'run, throw it, slide', along with the umpire's final and unchangeable shout of SAFE!
Combine all that with the smell of freshly cut grass and dusty leather gloves one has a near perfect evening. My grandparents returned again and again to watch games played even after the windshield of their parked car was smashed by contact with a stray fly ball.
We even had uniforms with the city team. The 'Broad Plaza Blues' had a few rare moments of victory which was even mentioned at least once in the local city newspaper.
Ah the firey flame of the famous, fades as fast as the fleeting fashion of the flinging of fly balls ..not unlike the fast final fading of the flowers of flax ..frail , fallen, and forever forgotten.. (by some anyways).
Although it has been several years since I have been to a live game and even several more years since I have actually played the game, I still like to consider myself a Softball Player.
I started playing at the age of six and continued on throughout school and even into my early twenties while living in the nearby 'big city'.
I have played every base as well as the far far outfielder, back catcher, and short stop , along with a very short and unsuccessful try out for the position of pitcher.
The Pitcher. That sacred and coveted position of every team eluded me. I could throw overhand with a force and accuracy of any of my male schoolmates 'zinging' it straight over the head of the pitcher to second base for a surprize 'out'. I would slide head / feet/ fingers first to homeplate to score. I would 'run down' a batter in the soup until they were forced back to their team bench. I could isntinctively decide which base to throw the ball to execute a double play. There wasn't a hit ball that I wouldn't attempt to stop either with my glove, shins, or even mouth (I still have the cracked front tooth), but I could not pass the Pitcher Try Out.
I am not sure why I could not attain that goal. Perhaps I couldn't concentrate on the traditional three step / pitch rule which seemed to be required to throw the ball at the magic mid way section of the batter/base/ and umpire line of sight. It might have been the taunts and encouragement from teammates and spectators such as " Chuck it in there Big Chucker" , "She Can't Pitch" , and "Let Her Walk You" ringing in my ears that affected my poor and unpredictable aim.
Or perhaps...and I try not to be biased about this..it was because I wasn't 'Cool'. Now I know coaches, teachers, and managers are to be immune from being effected by social coolness that is found in all genograms in any demographic study ; but I firmly believe that something makes these people, the truly 'Cool' ones, just emimnate some sort of energy that makes them the captains, social conveyors, fashion icons, cheerleaders and PITCHERS if they so choose. Maybe pitching skills at the amateur level did require finally coiffed hair, clear skin, stylish jeans, and cute little Size 7 running shoes. If that was the case 40 years ago, it still is so today, as my daughters were rarely ever the pitchers on their teams .
Whatever the reason, and probably for the best of the team, I was never the pitcher for longer than 2 innings a season...and that would only be if the regular pitcher was sick, or participating in some other more important activity such as singing in a music festival or attending a ceremony where she was receiving recognition for her figure skating performance the winter prior.
All bitterness aside, the game of softball is a wonderful activity both for the players and the spectators. The game can be enjoyed by everyone in the whole family with the right amount of mosquito repellant and sun block applied. There is no other sound in the world that quite matches the crack of the bat, the rising cheers, the chants and shouts of 'run, throw it, slide', along with the umpire's final and unchangeable shout of SAFE!
Combine all that with the smell of freshly cut grass and dusty leather gloves one has a near perfect evening. My grandparents returned again and again to watch games played even after the windshield of their parked car was smashed by contact with a stray fly ball.
We even had uniforms with the city team. The 'Broad Plaza Blues' had a few rare moments of victory which was even mentioned at least once in the local city newspaper.
Ah the firey flame of the famous, fades as fast as the fleeting fashion of the flinging of fly balls ..not unlike the fast final fading of the flowers of flax ..frail , fallen, and forever forgotten.. (by some anyways).
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