Kicks & Giggles Week 2 - 17-6...Wetter is Better

A chill ran down my back

It could have been sweat or rain, but I knew better. It was fear. A bolt of lightening had just flashed across the sky. I looked over at girl who had no clue. She was wondering what we were doing out there, why no one had called the game.

20 minutes earlier, the rain started, we were standing around waiting to play. The opposing team ran around the block as a warm up. K&G stood around and chain smoked.

Killer B's strategy for the game was simple and inspired
(1) On defense keep everything in front of you. Big plays only happen when you have to turn around and chase a ball
(2) On offense, let's play small ball. Most of these teams don't communicate well, when a ball is in play it looks like 6 year olds playing soccer. No one knows what to do

The d**chebag was pitching, Timothy Stack-alike, Killer B and I were manning the outfield. Everything would be ok.

I spent an inordinate amount of time fraternizing with the other team and later during the game trying to talk to the prettiest girl ever, who plays for the team we wooped up on last week, who was on the other side of the chain linked fence, waiting her turn.

I won't lie. I was scared. The thunderstorm brought out two of my biggest fears.

My fear of lightening - Even as my parents made me walk barefoot in the street and had Dominicans pelt me with baseballs to toughen me up, they built up in me a steady fear of lightening. Whenever there was a thunderstorm we were forced to unplug everything and sit quietly in our dark house, praying it would all subside. My dad periodically talking of this fool or that and how they foolishly died hiding under a tree, trying to stay warm. Now here I was, challenging the Gods in a stupid gold headband. I just wanted to sit in a dark room and cry.

My fear of busting my ass and embarrassing myself - In the second inning our third baseman busted his ass hard rounding second and ruining what would have been a home run. If I had gotten cut, I would have cried like a girl.

I resolved right there that neither would happen.

Of course, on the next play, a ball sailed over my head and i had to bust it to catch up to it, which I did half heartedly.

The next inning, I asked off the field and quietly positioned myself close to PS 142, just in case God decided to strike us down for our insolence.

The rain eventually subsided and I almost stopped sucking...sticking to the small ball plan and scoring a run during a rally when our team actually fell victim to the Mercy Rule, we had scored so many runs. During the rally, Timothy Stack-alike yelled "miss it" as four of our opponents huddled around a pop up. A very intense fellow got in his face for his unsportsmanlike conduct but luckily for all involved Mr. Intense remembered he was a thirty year old playing kick ball and mellowed out

I still sucked a little bit, overplaying a ball in the field that I should have caught easily. Luckily, the Killer B backed me up and as I slid on the wet ground I balled up into the fetal position so Killer B could get the ball back in play.

Killer B was inspired. the guy with the wrestling shoes can't be stopped, not by opposing teams or calls for reasonable base running. Our third baseman proudly showed his scars at the bar afterwards.

I ran into the opposing pitcher in the bathroom. He asked if we practiced. I looked at him confused. He talked about how good we were at communicating and backing each other up on plays. I rushed back and told my teammates.

Our long, slow, rain soaked march to glory continues...