*again, not my picture. saved it from icanhascheezburger dot com*
Where to begin? I guess I'll start at the beginning.
*note: mild swearing*
Monday was our first softball game of the summer. Game didn't actually get started until 8.30pm. We were down in the American Legion Pit in Carlinville. The mosquitos? HORRENDOUS! Dive-bombing little bastardos! Anyway...where was I? Oh yeah. As you can guess from the title, we won. We're 1-0...and we won by the 20 by 3 rule. That's where if one team scores 20 more runs than the other team by the third inning, the game's over. 25-5 was the score (I think). We saw three other teams that evening, and we're the only ones in 'uniform' - we all have pink shirts. Not baby pink, but fuschia pink. Amantacha pink (you know what I mean, C). Lurid pink. I love them (now all I need is a pair of lime green socks...).
But that's not what's bothering me. I show up for practice (except the one where Realist and I went to Oma's for his birthday dinner). I work my ass off at practice. I will DIVE for the ball if necessary. The two practices? 'Steph, go three.' 'Steph, go third.' Third base line's a hot zone.
Where'd I play?
Right field.
Have you ever played softball - either fast or slow pitch? Right field is the Dead Zone. Unless you've got a leftie up to bat, or an incredibly good righty that can hit towards the end of the bat and shoot it to the right side, your right fielder might as well have a book in her pocket, or an mp3 player or an easel with some frigging paints! for all the action she gets out there. Here's the kicker.
Hot Zone?
Didn't move up for our catcher to be able to toss her the ball to get a girl force-out at third. Stood there and looked at her like a cow would look at a cloud. Our catcher tried (she's a good friend), and it pissed her off. Rightly so, don't you think? Our catcher...is a SUB!
Hell and damnation.
I really want lime green soccer socks for this year.
Heepwah (& hf-bsot)
*note: mild swearing*
Monday was our first softball game of the summer. Game didn't actually get started until 8.30pm. We were down in the American Legion Pit in Carlinville. The mosquitos? HORRENDOUS! Dive-bombing little bastardos! Anyway...where was I? Oh yeah. As you can guess from the title, we won. We're 1-0...and we won by the 20 by 3 rule. That's where if one team scores 20 more runs than the other team by the third inning, the game's over. 25-5 was the score (I think). We saw three other teams that evening, and we're the only ones in 'uniform' - we all have pink shirts. Not baby pink, but fuschia pink. Amantacha pink (you know what I mean, C). Lurid pink. I love them (now all I need is a pair of lime green socks...).
But that's not what's bothering me. I show up for practice (except the one where Realist and I went to Oma's for his birthday dinner). I work my ass off at practice. I will DIVE for the ball if necessary. The two practices? 'Steph, go three.' 'Steph, go third.' Third base line's a hot zone.
Where'd I play?
Right field.
Have you ever played softball - either fast or slow pitch? Right field is the Dead Zone. Unless you've got a leftie up to bat, or an incredibly good righty that can hit towards the end of the bat and shoot it to the right side, your right fielder might as well have a book in her pocket, or an mp3 player or an easel with some frigging paints! for all the action she gets out there. Here's the kicker.
Hot Zone?
Didn't move up for our catcher to be able to toss her the ball to get a girl force-out at third. Stood there and looked at her like a cow would look at a cloud. Our catcher tried (she's a good friend), and it pissed her off. Rightly so, don't you think? Our catcher...is a SUB!
Hell and damnation.
I really want lime green soccer socks for this year.
Heepwah (& hf-bsot)
Mrs. Dreamer
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