I’m fairly certain I shared with you guys last season the joy (read: nervousness and stress) I felt when I joined the local kickball league.
I joined for 2 reasons: 1. Two of my friends started the team and they needed as many people, especially girls, to join. And 2. I thought it would be something fun and social that I could do during the week.
Last season, I had a pretty good time, but I noticed that many of the other teams in the league were really serious—as in, they recruit really good players and get really fucking pissed when someone gets an out.
Our team wasn’t like that. In fact, we were the laughing stock of the league because we brought a huge stereo (we call it The KaBoomBox) and coolers of beer to every game, and played drunk as shit.
Somehow, our debauchery paid off and we were winning games left and right. We even got an out when someone from our dugout belched so loud, it caught the other team off guard. It was a great time, and we went pretty far into the playoffs.
But this season has been way different.
The league has really cracked down on drinking. Some of the teams still do it, but you have to be really secretive about it, and it’s getting to be a hassle. A few games ago, we were in the dugout waiting for an ump so our game could start. One of the players from the other team, we’ll call her Brit, came over and started yelling at us saying we couldn’t have beers, even if they were in cups.
She walked away and I was all, “What the fuck was that about?”
Apparently she is a “commissioner,” basically a glorified tattle tale. I’ve seen this girl around many-a-time because she plays on three different teams, wears a bandana, gloves, and shin guards, and she pitches overhand.
Yeah, um, it’s KICKBALL.
The following game, I decided to screw it, I wasn’t going to drink. I’m trying to watch my figure and since it’s such as hassle anyway, I was just going to bring a Powerade and forget it. Well low and behold, here comes Brit, still pissy about the beer and The KaBoomBox being too loud.
That night, we were up against a pretty serious team who kept shit-talking all night. We lost, and my team was really upset. I didn’t care. I was in this to have fun. So what, we lost.
Well my teammates started talking about a strategy for next game, we should put THIS person here and THIS person there… then they started talking about hosting a practice and a pickup game with other teams.
I don’t want to practice. I don’t want to play a pickup game. I payed $45 to play on this team, I really just want to go on the field, kick the ball as hard as I can and try to make it on base, okay?
The next day, one of the guys on our team posted a diagram on our Facebook group.
You’ll notice “Lucky” isn’t on the diagram. Because apparently, my team doesn’t need me.
And yeah, I’m not an awesome player, but this isn’t a professional league. Sorry I’m not a fucking all star.
So I’d had enough. I was going to stand my team up Tuesday night and join D for dinner and a movie. I felt rebellious. I will show them, I thought.
And then? The game was cancelled due to rain.