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Softball Hijinks
Sep. 21st, 2011 05:54 pmSaturday. Was. AWESOME!!!!
So, all this past summer I've been playing on two different softball teams--in the same alumni league! One was the team with whom I played last summer, University of Chicago, to which Ken Scudder introduced me. The other was the team for the University of Michigan Business School--a guy on the Chicago team had formed that team and needed players. At some point during the summer the Chicago guys found out I was two-timing them! ;) And they got a little territorial and asked me "you're going to play for us for the tournament, right?" I said sure, thinking I gotta dance with the one that brung me.
After yet another game in which Chicago did not play to anything approaching its full potential, I got quite frustrated. The thing is, the Chicago team has talent--but most of them don't care that much, they don't play to win. So when they flub, they don't correct immediately. Example--when the ball goes over your head--RUN AFTER IT. Don't saunter, don't jog. RUN AFTER THE BALL AND GRAB IT AND THROW IT TO SOMEONE. Yes, I am passionate and competitive! But there are too few players on the Chicago team who want it like that.
Whereas the Michigan team wants it more--and so they perform better. We had (I think) only one loss? Pretty darn good, especially with comparatively few power hitters on the team. So after yet another frustrating game with Chicago, I'd decided when the tournament came, I would play for Michigan B School. But then every game we had after that was rained out, so I couldn't tell the Chicago players in person. THEN whoever was supposed to be organizing the tournament slacked off, and instead of its being during Labor Day Weekend in Central Park, it was for mid-September in Red Hook Park, waaaaay the hell out in inaccessible Brooklyn. We got an email from the team captains two weeks ago, letting us know when and where, and asking for RSVPs.
I replied to the Michigan B captain, Cecil, saying I'd be there but not until 2:45 or so, since I had tech for Patrick and Lisa's Wedding. THEN I replied to the Chicago people, saying I couldn't be there until 2:45 so they shouldn't count on me--in other words don't assume I will play, in otherotherwords I'M NOT PLAYING FOR YOU. I probably should've spelled it out because what then ensued was a whole discussion about we're short players and can we get women (they have to have at least 2 for the tournament) and how can we hold on until Clara gets there? I got alarmed and responded again, saying I can't get there until 2:45--realistically will we still be in the tournament? And kind of delicately laid out that I would be playing with Michigan.
After all this a few days later Cecil told us Michigan B couldn't field a team for the tourney after all, not enough people had responded. ARGH. (I blame the slackjaw organizers.) So I emailed Chicago again and said if you still need me on Saturday, text me.
Saturday morning dawns, and I am off to Steps on Broadway for a tap class. I get back, grab my stuff for P&L tech and get to the theater. Someone from the team (Ken Scudder as it turns out) has texted me that they won the first game and are now in the middle of their second game, and winning, could I make it out there? Of course! So after tech I make my way downtown to the Ikea water shuttle which is totally free! A totally free boat ride across the waters of New York Bay, how cool is that? It was SO much fun.
Got to the park and Chicago is halfway through their third round game--and losing pretty badly. They were playing Duke who was HAMMERING them. The score was something like 10-zip. Steve puts me in at 2nd but I sure wasn't much help, and they finally invoked the mercy rule so game over. I'd come all the way for nothing....
But wait! One of the Duke players comes over and tells us they lost one of their female players (and they have to have at last 2)--would I like to play? Sure I would! So now I'm playing in the championship, for yet a third team!
They put me at catcher, which can be a nothing position in slow pitch softball. But I tried to maximize it--I talked a lot to the pitcher, to keep him in the zone, saying softly "just pitch to my glove, Tony. Pitch to my glove." Then around the second or third inning I started chattering, catcher chatter, "no batta. No batta, no batta, no batta." The umpire was giving me tips on how to play the position--I haven't caught very much since my grade school days (I used to catch a little in Little League and on my 8th grade softball team).
The first time I got up to bat the ump called me out on some pretty questionable pitches--I gave him a look and humphed "that was NOT a strike!" Because it wasn't! (Waaaaay inside.) But when I got behind the plate next inning, I chatted with him a little, to show I had no hard feelings, I just disagreed with his call :) Then when I was up the second time, he said to me "now young lady, I want you to swing this time! I don't want to call you out on strikes again." I smiled and said "my small strike zone is one of the FEW offensive advantages I have--of course I'm going to work the count!" But as it turned out I got on base this time--I hit an easy blooper to third but they must've fumbled it because I just barely beat the throw and the 1st base coach smacked my hand and said "THAT'S why you run it out!"
At one point when we were at bat, one of our runners was hit with a throw from their 2nd baseman. Not really a big deal--this sort of thing can happen, and as long as you know it wasn't done on purpose, you move on. Well a few innings later (in fact it was the bottom of the last inning and we were up by 1 run), when the other team was up, their 2nd baseman was running to third and somehow our 3rd baseman messed up the play and she slid safely. As she was half-lying there, he was standing over her talking to the umpire--there was some kind of disagreement and the other team who were generally a bunch of testosteronic jerks, started yelling *really* angrily. A couple of them were just spewing profanities, "motherfuckers, assholes," that sort of thing. And one of them was literally screaming at our 3rd baseman not to stand over her. Uh--isn't this the same player who HIT one of ours with the ball? Why is standing over someone--who's slid, no less--such a big deal? (Answer--it's not. They were just pissed because they were losing.)
So they get another batter up, one of the blowhards, and I'm chattering away and he gets even more pissed. He turns and looks at me, saying back to me sarcastically "no batta, no batta." I looked him full in the face, grinned and said "that's right. No batta, no batta, no batta." You KNOW you're getting to them when they react that way!
Dude popped it up. Heh heh heh.
And then, one out later, we had won! The Duke team got a huge shiny trophy and then each one of us got personal little trophies. I asked if the girl who was normally on the team, for whom I was covering, should get mine and they said they had enough extra, not to worry. So I got to play after all AND I got my own trophy! And I love that the jerks lost--as we posed for a picture, one of the players said "the only better than winning is when the other team wanted it more."
So, all this past summer I've been playing on two different softball teams--in the same alumni league! One was the team with whom I played last summer, University of Chicago, to which Ken Scudder introduced me. The other was the team for the University of Michigan Business School--a guy on the Chicago team had formed that team and needed players. At some point during the summer the Chicago guys found out I was two-timing them! ;) And they got a little territorial and asked me "you're going to play for us for the tournament, right?" I said sure, thinking I gotta dance with the one that brung me.
After yet another game in which Chicago did not play to anything approaching its full potential, I got quite frustrated. The thing is, the Chicago team has talent--but most of them don't care that much, they don't play to win. So when they flub, they don't correct immediately. Example--when the ball goes over your head--RUN AFTER IT. Don't saunter, don't jog. RUN AFTER THE BALL AND GRAB IT AND THROW IT TO SOMEONE. Yes, I am passionate and competitive! But there are too few players on the Chicago team who want it like that.
Whereas the Michigan team wants it more--and so they perform better. We had (I think) only one loss? Pretty darn good, especially with comparatively few power hitters on the team. So after yet another frustrating game with Chicago, I'd decided when the tournament came, I would play for Michigan B School. But then every game we had after that was rained out, so I couldn't tell the Chicago players in person. THEN whoever was supposed to be organizing the tournament slacked off, and instead of its being during Labor Day Weekend in Central Park, it was for mid-September in Red Hook Park, waaaaay the hell out in inaccessible Brooklyn. We got an email from the team captains two weeks ago, letting us know when and where, and asking for RSVPs.
I replied to the Michigan B captain, Cecil, saying I'd be there but not until 2:45 or so, since I had tech for Patrick and Lisa's Wedding. THEN I replied to the Chicago people, saying I couldn't be there until 2:45 so they shouldn't count on me--in other words don't assume I will play, in otherotherwords I'M NOT PLAYING FOR YOU. I probably should've spelled it out because what then ensued was a whole discussion about we're short players and can we get women (they have to have at least 2 for the tournament) and how can we hold on until Clara gets there? I got alarmed and responded again, saying I can't get there until 2:45--realistically will we still be in the tournament? And kind of delicately laid out that I would be playing with Michigan.
After all this a few days later Cecil told us Michigan B couldn't field a team for the tourney after all, not enough people had responded. ARGH. (I blame the slackjaw organizers.) So I emailed Chicago again and said if you still need me on Saturday, text me.
Saturday morning dawns, and I am off to Steps on Broadway for a tap class. I get back, grab my stuff for P&L tech and get to the theater. Someone from the team (Ken Scudder as it turns out) has texted me that they won the first game and are now in the middle of their second game, and winning, could I make it out there? Of course! So after tech I make my way downtown to the Ikea water shuttle which is totally free! A totally free boat ride across the waters of New York Bay, how cool is that? It was SO much fun.
Got to the park and Chicago is halfway through their third round game--and losing pretty badly. They were playing Duke who was HAMMERING them. The score was something like 10-zip. Steve puts me in at 2nd but I sure wasn't much help, and they finally invoked the mercy rule so game over. I'd come all the way for nothing....
But wait! One of the Duke players comes over and tells us they lost one of their female players (and they have to have at last 2)--would I like to play? Sure I would! So now I'm playing in the championship, for yet a third team!
They put me at catcher, which can be a nothing position in slow pitch softball. But I tried to maximize it--I talked a lot to the pitcher, to keep him in the zone, saying softly "just pitch to my glove, Tony. Pitch to my glove." Then around the second or third inning I started chattering, catcher chatter, "no batta. No batta, no batta, no batta." The umpire was giving me tips on how to play the position--I haven't caught very much since my grade school days (I used to catch a little in Little League and on my 8th grade softball team).
The first time I got up to bat the ump called me out on some pretty questionable pitches--I gave him a look and humphed "that was NOT a strike!" Because it wasn't! (Waaaaay inside.) But when I got behind the plate next inning, I chatted with him a little, to show I had no hard feelings, I just disagreed with his call :) Then when I was up the second time, he said to me "now young lady, I want you to swing this time! I don't want to call you out on strikes again." I smiled and said "my small strike zone is one of the FEW offensive advantages I have--of course I'm going to work the count!" But as it turned out I got on base this time--I hit an easy blooper to third but they must've fumbled it because I just barely beat the throw and the 1st base coach smacked my hand and said "THAT'S why you run it out!"
At one point when we were at bat, one of our runners was hit with a throw from their 2nd baseman. Not really a big deal--this sort of thing can happen, and as long as you know it wasn't done on purpose, you move on. Well a few innings later (in fact it was the bottom of the last inning and we were up by 1 run), when the other team was up, their 2nd baseman was running to third and somehow our 3rd baseman messed up the play and she slid safely. As she was half-lying there, he was standing over her talking to the umpire--there was some kind of disagreement and the other team who were generally a bunch of testosteronic jerks, started yelling *really* angrily. A couple of them were just spewing profanities, "motherfuckers, assholes," that sort of thing. And one of them was literally screaming at our 3rd baseman not to stand over her. Uh--isn't this the same player who HIT one of ours with the ball? Why is standing over someone--who's slid, no less--such a big deal? (Answer--it's not. They were just pissed because they were losing.)
So they get another batter up, one of the blowhards, and I'm chattering away and he gets even more pissed. He turns and looks at me, saying back to me sarcastically "no batta, no batta." I looked him full in the face, grinned and said "that's right. No batta, no batta, no batta." You KNOW you're getting to them when they react that way!
Dude popped it up. Heh heh heh.
And then, one out later, we had won! The Duke team got a huge shiny trophy and then each one of us got personal little trophies. I asked if the girl who was normally on the team, for whom I was covering, should get mine and they said they had enough extra, not to worry. So I got to play after all AND I got my own trophy! And I love that the jerks lost--as we posed for a picture, one of the players said "the only better than winning is when the other team wanted it more."
