Tonight, I scored my very first run after a season of playing kickball.
It was GLORIOUS.
For months, I’ve felt like the weak link on the team. I’m part of a co-ed league, which requires a specific numbers of females in order to be official. The other girls on the team are current [or recently retired] soccer players, so I’ve struggled with the feeling that I’m the token “non-athlete” on the team; the mascot just there to fill a quota.
Of course, every member of the team has been amazingly supportive and encouraging and I know that I’m actually a decent player when it boils down. However, the feelings of inadequacy – of being picked last for so many years when I was younger – have stuck with me.
Tonight, I went up to bat for the second time and managed to get on base. This is an accomplishment for me, as I have a habit of kicking pop flies that land perfectly in the pitcher’s arms. I was thrilled to be on base, but assumed I’d likely get tagged out in a few minutes. Amazingly, the next batter came up [we had 2 outs] and kicked right into a gap in the field, advancing me to second and then third.
I was FLOORED.
I don’t think I had made it to third before, except during practice games and my dreams. I stood on third, checking out the loaded bases, baffled to have fallen into another dimension where I could possibly score a point for my team. My coach on 3rd base told me to “run on anything” and when the batter kicked a line drive towards right field, I floored it.
And I scored a run.
It. Felt. AMAZING.
While I wasn’t the winning run, our team STOMPED the competition with a 16 > 2 win. It was pretty much a murder, but we were celebrated instead of arrested and sentenced to life. Unless you’re referring to a life of awesomeness, which I’m sure we’ll all enjoy.
However, in the midst of all the high fives, I was able to truly celebrate my contribution. One of those runs was because of ME. I crossed that home plate.
I’m feeling pretty darn happy tonight.
So happy, in fact, that I let two of my teammates teach me how to do a cartwheel. Something I’ve been scared to learn to do for YEARS.
It’s certainly not a pretty one, but I can flip myself over without landing on my head, so that’s a plus.
Today was a good day.
Bon appetit, my friends.