Bad News Bears Revisited

I came out of the womb the first girl in a Baseball family. My grandfather played then coached, as did my father. If the Red Sox were playing, the game was on Grandpa's TV. By age 7, I was able to throw like an effeminate boy and by 10 like a real boy. The first team I played for Campbell's Bakery, was not that much different from The Bad News Bears. During my first game, I played right field. My grandfather came to the game, though he was concerned that I was playing baseball because I was a girl. The first ball I got rolled out to me and I ran at it with an open glove all eager beaver. It took a bad bounce and hit me in the mouth. My mom tells the story much better about my bloodiness, as I have no recollection. Being in right field wasn't so bad though. Most of my time was spent tossing dandelions into the air and catching them in my mitt.

I managed to get a little better, and was drafted one of 4 girls into little league in 6th grade. By 7th grade when we moved to Connecticut, I joined an all girls softball team, but I never really got into it. My dad says I turned into a girl and didn't want to wear a hat to mess my 80's bear claw hair or ruin my nails tossing the ball around. I think that I just didn't like playing with all girls. Read: competitive, butch, angry girls.

Jump to 25 years later when DG asks me to join his softball team (Callahan's Auto - named after the movie Tommy Boy). I told him I didn't want to, but if they were desperate, I would sub in a game or two. 8:55pm two weeks ago, I got the call that one of their girls didn't show up and they need me right away. *grumble grumble* By the time I got there, they had already started playing. As I walked onto the field, I didn't get a hello, or welcome, I got the "You're up to bat!" What the...?!?! I haven't hit a softball in over 9 years. Luckily I didn't completely embarrass myself and I hit the ball every time I was up, made it to base a couple of times and even made it home once. I even played catcher to DGs pitching and managed to not have too many screw ups.

Come the following week when they needed a girl again, I was requested. Just as I had gotten over the soreness in my legs from squatting behind the plate the last game, they needed me to play again. This time, I was sent to right field, a position I am well versed in. Right field as an adult is more about screaming and being a cheerleader for your team. This is easy enough, but you have to yell loud enough to be heard above all of the true cheerleaders, the drunk homeless men who call this park home. This can be good and bad, as on good nights they actually cheer for you and on bad, they drunkenly slur out heckles like “less talk more hittin’ woman!” I was relieved when only 1 ball came out my way. Though the lack of action out there did have me checking out the dandelion factor, which could have kept me occupied all night long.

There’s not much difference between Campbell’s Bakery and Callahan Auto. Both made it through an entire season without so much as winning one game. The team is trying to recruit me for their summer season, but I really do not want to play. I am no longer afraid of getting dirty or messing my hair, my concerns are more legitimate, like while playing catcher, getting whacked in the face with a bat and having a constant drool for our wedding, or having slow reflexes and catching a ball with my eye instead of my glove, or having a ball take a bad bounce and removing one of my teeth.