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Kick Ballin’ Thursday: Playoff Season

June 5, 2012
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Oh, gosh. Thursday was insane.

You don’t believe me, do you?

You should. It was insane.

This team was different. You could tell by their attitudes as soon as we entered the court. I know that in the past I have thought “men” on other teams were snooty, competitive, and arrogant, but I got over those people. This team, though, I am still not over the way they acted throughout the entire game. And it wasn’t just the testosterone filled men. Yes, the estrogen was highly involved too.

Oh, gosh.

The long day at work didn’t help my patience. Working 12 hours (with many of them on my feet) and then playing kickball became unthinkable. But of course, I wouldn’t miss it. So we left work at 8:45 pm and arrived on the courts at 9:15 on the dot, ready to play. Not ready for unwarranted behavior, but ready for kickball. The game started as any other. We were home, we played bad out on the field the first inning and they scored a run almost immediately. Depression came over me – simply thinking this was my last kickball game of the year. (Did I mention it was the playoffs?) We needed to pick up our game.

So we went in to kick and scored 10 runs!  Wait. That never happened. Their field game started with an intense thinkI’mbetterthanyou male pitcher who whipped the ball at everyone (including girls). We should have never left the field because we were back on it in the matter of minutes. Only to suffer another lost run.

0-2, bottom 2.

In the 3rd inning, we did our part by holding them. While the game began looking up for us, the other team began spiraling out of control. A few calls were made by the ref that were in our favor. However, if a red instant replay flag could have been thrown, it should have been at two separate points. With a runner on first and no outs, their kicker placed a nice ground ball to our shortstop. As he threw the ball to our second baseman, there was a catch, bobble, and drop. The base runner was still called out (notice the word catch). Questionable but no complaints on my end. They did score another run as the inning wore on but their angry was starting to show itself. Then we pulled it out a little more by scoring 1 run by two base kicks and a ground rule double.

1-3, top 4.

With 1 out, a runner on third, and a pending score of 1-4, something had to be done. A high fly ball was kicked to Rob in right field and we all instinctively knew the runner on third was tagging up, ready to make his move. Coming off the catch, Rob whipped it at home plate, apparently snipping the runners back foot before his front foot hit home plate. OUT.

This is where things got a little crazy.

And by that, I mean I wanted to walk home because the screaming was giving me a headache. With the ball in my hand, I handed it to one of their players. “Don’t (bad word) think you can talk to me,” he said. TO ME! What the hell did I do, mister? Oh, I blushed and almost cried. I’m too sensitive for that type of thing. And then I thought, That poor, poor kickball umpire in New York City. The other team just kept yelling and yelling and yelling at him. I couldn’t even tell you what they said because I only heard snippets of the terrible language (words like nerd and loser). The girls were even going crazy – flailing their arms and getting into it. I thought there was a very large chance the umpire was going to kick them all out and we would get the automatic win. No such luck.

Their pitcher went out with a vengeance. Randy Johnson out there going crazy. To me, it seemed pointless to even try to kick the ball. But of course, I had to kick that inning. And of course, I flew out. (Notice I never highlight me kicking because the last half of the season has had me in a slump. I keep my talent on the field where it belongs.) Without my efforts, we did score one more run that inning.

2-3, top 5.

Being the testosterone filled team that we are, don’t think that our guys will go down without a fight. Our normal pitcher (Kate) hit the bench and her lovely angry boyfriend Luke took the mound. And he whipped it. Faster than Randy Johnson, probably. I’m not sure, we’ll have to bring a speed gun out. It was ridiculous. Comments from their bench ensued and I truly felt an all out war was going to begin. Thank God we got three outs quickly enough so I could run away from them. (Since I play first base, they literally stand three feet away from me.)

Then something amazing happen. We put a string of kicks together and after a double by the one and only Andrea and a sacrifice on the bases by Allie, we scored two runs before the inning was out.

4-3, top 6.

Home team. Last inning. Fly ball to center. 1 out. Fly ball to short. 2 outs. Grounder to 3rd and all of a sudden I am having a ball whipped at my face. Good thing I caught it. 3 outs. Game over. They were eliminated, we move on to week two.

I cannot tell you how awkward it was on the walk to Libation, them on one side of the road, us on the other. And when we got there, our groups stood a bit too close for comfort.

 

 

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One Comment leave one →
  1. June 6, 2012 1:57 am

    You are a cracker-jack and I love you!!

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