I Hate the Outfield

ed's note: this is random, but it's what I felt like sharing today.

The softball team I joined played its third game last night. It was my second game.

In the first game, I played second base, the position I grew accustomed to playing growing up. I made a few putouts and had a few assists, no errors and even drove in a run on an error. I did pretty well.

Last night, well let’s just say last night turned into a bit of circus.

I ended up playing left field. If you don’t know about my dislike for all things outfield here’s the short version: I told my dad when I was five or six that I wanted to play in the outfield (because I was scared of the ball at the time). He subsequently took me to the backyard (we had an acre or more) and ch1allenged me to catch flyballs. He hit about three or four. I caught a few, and dropped some others. Then came the fifth one. I chased it down, but somehow lost my footing and ended up falling into a pit of mud. Everything I had on was ruined, and I’ve hated the outfield ever since.

Well, not really. I played outfield during high school as a freshman and sophomore because that was the only place I could play to make varsity. I got really good at tracking the ball off of the bat and making diving catches. I preferred the spectacular catch.

Well, yesterday, I found myself in that position – one where I had to make a few spectacular catches – chiefly because I couldn’t grasp how far or how short the ball was being hit.

There were three opportunities in all. The first ball was short and I ran in after it, dove and narrowly missed the catch. It really upset me because I knew I could have caught it, and I was inflicting undue stress on my body and exerting a lot of effort not to catch the damn ball.

The second one was almost exactly like the first one, only this time I so was determined to make the diving grab that I hit my chin on the ground as I dove for the ball – and MADE THE CATCH.

Everyone yield “Great play.” I turned and tipped my glove to acknowledge their cheers (it made me feel really good). Everyone including my teammates, the other team and the guy who hit the ball all screamed their kudos. The only entity that loathed what I had done was my chin.

The next inning, I had a ball that looked like it was going over my head that I had to track down. I misread it, and some how ended up having to leap/dive backwards and across my body for it. I caught it, and got more kudos. But I also screwed up my back and arm.

I came into the dugout as our game ended (we got our butts kicked) and they told me that I would be playing the outfield for the duration of the season, to which I replied “I hate the outfield.”

My teammates then told me that I would have to get used to it. I think I should quit before I really hurt myself (I'm joking).