A Softball Slaughter

20 Aug

Last Friday was (mercifully) the last softball game of the season. We lost. By a lot.

It was a total bloodbath actually: a horrifying 20-3! Sure, we went out to have a little fun, but our opponents had other ideas. Considering our combined weight as a team was about equal to one of their players, we were pretty unfairly matched! On top of my usual athletically-induced anxiety before these games, I was also sweating profusely after finally getting a team shirt, which is long-sleeved and apparently made of wool! After a ten-minute warm up lobbing balls as the other team whacked grand-slams just to get the blood pumping, I was already feverish from the heat. Then we found out we’d be taking the outfield first, so I scurried as far away from any base spots and settled on the left-outfield, where I figured I’d see minimal play.

This was an incorrect assumption. The first four batters smacked it straight towards me and over my head, forcing me to sprint across the field, grab the ball and then sprint back towards my other teammates, who stood watching this show with a mixture of embarrassment for me and relief it wasn’t them! This then happened three more times. Wheezing heavily, I threw the ball to my teammate for the fourth time, who effortlessly whipped it towards home base, getting someone out. Because there is a God, we got another two outs and I was saved any further humiliation…at least until I was up at bat!

My first time out, I hit a nice grounder and rushed the base just as a curve ball landed squarely in the glove. I was out. My second time up, I made it to first base, but failed to reach second after deciding my life would be at risk if I slammed into the concrete block that was the second baseman. The game continued in this manner for five innings, our well-intentioned attempts at actually getting a run falling short to their attempts at making our lives a living hell. They finally scored twenty runs, automatically ending the game. After a show of half-hearted sportsmanship, we all shook hands and went our separate ways, which meant back to work! I promptly headed for the office kitchenette and stuck my head in the freezer to cool off and hide my face from shame! Looks like those traumatic high school gym memories can be topped!

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