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I love sports. I love to play team sports. For myself, it's not so much the competition that thrills me, it's being out with friends and having fun. I'm a terrific cheerleader. I have great energy to spur a team on when everyone feels like throwing in the towel. What I lack though is skill.
When I was in my early twenties, I played mixed slo-pitch on a team, opposite my-then husband. His team was far more competitive and he tended to be short-tempered around my obvious lack of skill, which is the reason he signed me up on another team.
I moved around much on the team and my main position was usually outfield. At times I played rover, mainly I played in right field. The reason? Not many hit over into right field, behind the first base and if a ball does go there, it's usually foul. Not only was I poor at catching balls, I couldn't throw a ball to save my life!
My (now ex) husband knew this. He knew this very well which was the main reason I wasn't invited to play on his team. He tended to direct his hits towards me - it wouldn't matter if I was rover, left field or right field. He'd hit away, I'd struggle to catch, struggle to throw and when I finally got the ball away, there he'd be standing on 2nd base, gloating.
Mid-summer, my parents drove up to visit for a week and we had a game scheduled. There were my parents, up in the stands, proudly watching their daughter give it all she had. I cheered, I whooped, I hollered and I played my heart out. Still, I missed a few catches and could only hit the ball to the pitcher. I knew they'd love me anyhow but I was wishing I could get just one really good hit or catch before the end of the game.
My (now ex) husband's team was up to bat. He walked up to the plate with much confidence and winked towards me, standing over in right field. I tensed up, knowing he was planning to hit it directly to me. The pitcher threw the first ball, he swung and hit the ball hard. The baseball flew through the air directly towards me. My heart was pounding and I recall seeing nothing, hearing nothing, my mind totally concentrating on that ball. Then I heard **thud** and my heart stopped.
I stood transfixed, unable to move. Dave was running the bases when a hush came over everyone and he stopped. He looked directly at me. My mouth dropped. I recall yelling, "I caught the ball! I caught the ball!"
My parents were cheering! Everyone was clapping! Everyone but Dave. He headed to the benches.
Finally I heard, "Throw the ball, you got him out, it's ok to let the ball go now."
I did. I threw the ball to the pitcher and remained in shock the rest of the game.
I lived in a small town. This story stayed alive the entire rest of the season. Dave endured good-natured teasing for my putting him out on what had appeared to be a home run hit. Both teams congratulated me on my excellent catch.
There is a saying which goes "we will all have 5 minutes of glory in our lifetime." I believe that was my 5 minutes of glory. For some, glory in ball is that homerun or catching a pop-up and saving the game. I have no idea if our team won, it didn't matter that day. All that matter was I finally caught a ball and the glory was, it put my (now ex) husband on the bench!
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