I know what you’re thinking. And” that’s what she said” is totally acceptable at this juncture.
When I played softball at age 10 I went for only one pop fly. It was during the parent/child game and I got under it, was so confident, and then was slammed in the forearm with the ball. I had a huge welt and went crying off the field. It was that day that I determined I would never play again.
So in today’s game, again playing short center, I found myself in a similar predicament. I had been doing well today. I had caught many grounders and even smacked a pretty good ball at my one chance up to bat. In essence, I had gotten a bit of a head about me.
The other team was slamming us. We had already cycled through about 15 runs (yeah, we’re that good) and a pop fly went into the air.
“You’ve got it D,” my friend cheered.
“Get it! Get it,” the Gipper, aka our captain, called to me.
“You got it babe,” the hubster yelled.
I took my husband’s earlier advice and backed up when I saw it coming my way. I moved in, putting up my glove as I did, and watched it slowly fall.
“You’re gonna get it, you’re gonna get it,” I chanted in my head.
It dinged off the tip of my glove and fell into the grass. Fail.
But at least I tried! I can still feel the sting on my right arm from that ball that hit me in 1992 so I’m pretty proud of myself for at least attempting it. I think some of the earlier fears still clouded me and I backed off at the last minute. I will catch a pop fly before this season is over though. It will be mine. Oh yes, it will be mine.