Levity

SOL # 10 (should be #12) See below to find out what the Slice of Life challenge is

Once a week at my school, we play pickleball after the kids leave. (We are not idiots. We know that if we played when the kids could watch us, it would go viral... and it would be very embarrassing.)

I am extremely competitive when it comes to some sports. (Pool. Kickball--when I can butt into a kids' game. And apparently pickleball.) Unfortunately, I don't have any skills to back up that competitive spirit. Fortunately, I only groan and yell over my own mistakes. Everybody else (when they miss a shot)? Great try... That was a tough one... That almost went in.

                                                 image by Curious Fun, via Pixabay

I wanted to tell the group my great softball story, but everyone had to leave as soon as we finished playing, so I'll tell you:

It happened 11 or 12 years ago. My daughter was invited to fill in at a softball game. (She is extremely athletic. Who knows where she got it from.) I tagged along to watch my then four-year-old granddaughter. I figured while Virginia played (slow pitch--something she wasn't used to), I could sit and watch Riley at the playground.

Virginia's team was short players, and was on the verge of forfeiting. They convinced me to catch. It'll be easy. You just let the ball bounce, you pick up the ball and toss it to the pitcher... The pitcher will cover home plate if there's somebody coming home. How hard could that be? (There were other grandmothers sitting in lawn chairs, and they promised they'd keep an eye on Riley.)

Okay. I can help out and do that.

An awful twist of fate: when I walked off the field after catching an inning, thinking I'd return to catch in a bit, I found out that if I caught, I also had to bat. 

Uh oh.

I came up to bat three times. The first time, I swung around like a windmill. Three times. I struck out. The second time, I chopped at the ball like I was cutting firewood. Again, I struck out. The third time, I was determined to make contact with the ball. I ran forward (I didn't even swing) and the ump yelled, "You're out!"

"What do you mean, I'm out? I didn't even swing!" (I was hot... and I don't mean Beyonce hot and I don't mean temperature-wise hot.)

Apparently there's something called a batter's box. And I had ran too far forward and out of the box... which is an automatic out.

That evening Riley proclaimed, "Grammy, you were phenomenal." (Perhaps that was partially fueled by the knowledge that Grammy was treating them to Ted Drewes?) Today we laugh and laugh... because it was hilarious.

Levity. It's a healing balm...