300406

little girl, BIG GIRL
Current mood: determined

Once upon a time, there was a nine year old girl who was invited to learn how to play baseball. The little girl was so happy because she really wanted to play with this person. He took her outside and told her she had to learn how to catch a ball first. He even had already bought her a special glove because she was left-handed.

He threw the ball. WHOA! He threw that ball FAST! The little girl dodged it. "DON'T DODGE THE BALL!" he said. "DON'T THROW IT AT MY FACE SO HARD!" she yelled back. He explained to her that this is how we play and that if you just throw up your glove you won't get hit. "Just. throw. up. your. glove."

Ball gets thrown again.
*dodge!*

"I said NOT to dodge the ball!"
"You're throwing it TOO hard!"
"I'm not going to play with you if you are going to keep running from the ball."

*Repeat process*

"Look. Do NOT move. Stand there. When I throw the ball, you throw up your glove and catch it. It's that easy. DO. NOT. MOVE."

Ball thrown again.
Little girl doesn't move.
Little girl also doesn't get her glove up in time.
Now she has a bloody nose.

"Go get cleaned up and get back out here. Now you know why you have to throw up your glove!"
Little girl runs into the house, crying. That sucker HURT.

She comes back out and is told to put her glove back on. She doesn't want to play anymore. She's told she has to. She throws a big fit. She's pretty sure she's going to get hit in the face again. He tells her he doesn't play with crybabies and to get out there. She doesn't care. She wants to go inside. NO.

"You aren't going inside. You need to practice. Throw this ball straight up in the air and as it falls, throw up your glove and catch it. It isn't hard, stop being a crybaby about it. You sound like a dying cow."

He shows her how and she does it.
"Throw it HIGHER. You have to throw it high because that's how it would be coming to you if someone hit it with a bat."

She just KNOWS she's going to get hit in the face again. He gets frustrated and tells her to keep practicing and goes inside. She practices for what seems like an eternity. She certainly does not want to learn baseball anymore. She goes inside and tells him she's done. He tells her she can't be and to get back out there. So she does. She wishes she could tell if he was looking out the window or not. After yet another eternity slothed by, she goes back in and just watches tv, he doesn't notice or just doesn't say anything.

A day or two later, she decides she can, in fact, 'throw up the glove' and asks him to play. He tells her she isn't ready and makes her go throw the ball up in the air and catch it for awhile.

This goes on for about a week, maybe a day or two less, before the little girl learns just not to ask him anymore. She never picked the glove back up and never had any desire whatsoever to play on any teams where the ball gets thrown. Kickball? No problem. Tennis? Serve it baby. Track? No balls no problem! Skiing? Rather break a leg than get hit in the face! Basketball? That ball's so large, it isn't getting past these forearms of fortitude. Dodge ball? OH HELL NO. Volleyball? Just so that thing can get spiked in her face?!? Are you kidding?

She got to the point where, if you threw something at her, she'd yell at you. "Don't throw shit at my face! I hate it!" Don't toss the remote... don't be all cute and flirty and wad up paper and throw it... and don't joke with no damn ball.

Twenty years later, I haven't picked up a bat. I haven't caught a baseball or softball. Of course, I've tossed kiddie balls with the kiddies... but I have been highly successful at not playing catch 'for real'. I have been moderately successful at getting out of dodgeball and volleyball. With dodgeball, you just take the damn hit as soon as you can. With volleyball, you just make sure you suck... which isn't too hard when you are afraid of the ball anyway.

Twenty years later, I've been through the military and all the training associated with it. I've been in drill sargent school. I've wrestled... been hit with chairs, gone through tables, taken difficult moves that have high potential to seriously hurt you. I'm actually descently athletic... not any type of 'allstar' athletic... but I can hold my own. I've been in more stressful situations than most and handled them all.

Twenty years later, I've grown to appreciate the humor of being told you sound like a 'dying cow' (although I've never used that phrase on my girls). However, countless people have felt my wrath for throwing things at me.

Well... something very unfortunate happened. a friend of mine wants to play on my firms's softball team. I put him on the team, and somehow, I got put on that team too. They were having a hard time getting enough people, so if I back out there probably won't be enough players. Greeeeaaaat.

Well, I decided that it's just plain dumb to not stay on a team on which I could very well have a ton of fun. I've got to get over it some time. Another twenty years of freaking out every time someone throws something at me that wouldn't even hurt if it hit me is just retarded if I can get over it.

So, I bought a bat and softball yesterday and got out two gloves. I practiced with a friend for awhile at my level, which is that of an 8 or 9 year old. It was all good until we started throwing it up in the air for me to look up and catch. THAT sucked. You have to look up... stare straight at the ball... THROW YOUR STUPID GLOVE UP... and catch it.

So, of course, I did *not* throw up my glove, but put down my head and ducked down.

And got hit in the freaking head with the ball.

So, what does an almost thirty year old do when that happens? Bursts into tears and goes upstairs to bed. It was just like being hit in the face all over again... minus the angry pitcher. Yesterday morning, I would have told you I remember everything from that fateful day in extreme detail. That wouldn't have been true... NOW I remember everything in extreme detail:

* There's the split second terror when you know you screwed up and there's no time to save yourself from the hit.

* There's the shock and pain that hits you at the exact same time as the ball.

* There's the hurt from getting hit coupled with the hurt of being hit.

* There's the embarrassment of getting hit in the head because you were too dumb to just throw up the stupid, stupid, stupid glove.

The tears came exactly as they did twenty years ago and there was NO FREAKING WAY I was going to go back out and throw that stupid ball straight up in the air and catch it. Of course, I wasn't told to do that... but when my friend kept telling me to come back, I honestly thought that was why. I wasn't coming back because I'm not nine anymore... I'm TWENTY-nine and I can finally say no.

But, I have to go back out and practice again. Not because anyone tells me I have to, but because my two games are on Tuesday and it's time to just get over it.