I am prone to accidents. Well I did not fall off my diaper changing table like my sister did, accidents followed me at a young age. One of the first accidents I remember was when I was about 5 and I was tobogganing with my 2 cousins at their house on Thanksgiving Day. I was in the front as I was the youngest and it started off fun. We were swooshing through the newly fallen snow. All was fine and dandy until the toboggan began careening at break neck speeds through the woods and we were headed straight for a tree. My cousins jumped, did not pull me off or even tell me to jump, and I hit the tree, I hit it HARD! Off to the ER with a separated issue. I was so mad and embarrassed, I remember wanting to eat my Thanksgiving Dinner on a TV tray in my closet, but my mother was having none of it! Hello, sling, nice to meet you!
Next up, cheerleading. Cheerleading was a dangerous sport at my school. We practiced 2 hours a day, 6 - 7 days a week, plus gymnastics class for 3 hours on Monday nights. We were hard core, we took part in competitions and we practiced more than the basketball players we cheered for. One night at gymnastics, I came down wrong off the trampoline and sprained my ankle. As I hobbled to the car, I thought it would get better. By the time the 30 minute car ride was over, I literally crawled to my room. My parents were sleeping, they don't know anything, it will be fine in the morning. Was I delirious from the pain? When I woke up in the morning, I could not walk, my ankle looked like a melon and it was BLACK all over. I had to call my Mom into the room and off to the ER it was. Hello, cast, nice to meet you!
Another time in high school, I stubbed my toe badly into the door jam in our hallway at home. I was barefoot, and I started crying and writhing in pain. My Mom who thinks I am prone to histrionics totally did not believe. (I do not understand why she thinks I am melodramatic, because I am totally not!) As I yelled that my toe was broken, she came over to examine it. She decided to wiggle it for good measure and when we heard the "Crack" we knew it was broken (or as least it was then!) I still pull out the "You Broke My Toe Card" whenever she does not take my injuries seriously. Hello, toe breaker Mom, nice to meet you!
Since then there has been a blood clot from cheerleading, a concussion from my dorm room wall (don't ask) and a softball injury that is unparalleled (refer to my NYC on Crutches blog for more details on the debacle). All in all, I am probably a klutz, but my sister rivals or surpasses me. She raised her hand to take off her shirt in her bedroom one night, got her hand stuck in the ceiling fan and ended up with a broken hand. I've never done that :)!
Showing posts with label softball. Show all posts
Showing posts with label softball. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
College Softball - I Can't Believe I am Getting Paid for This!
I played softball since 7th grade. Except for a couple of years off recently and while I was in grad school, I have played softball for 21 years. There is not much in life that I can say I have done or ever wanted to do for 21 years, so I can probably say that I am committed to softball more than most people are committed to their marriages, their jobs, or even their kids.
At Marymount, I decided to go out for the softball team as a freshmen and made it along with several of my friends that I then spent the next 4 years playing with. Softball was a welcome distraction from the Chem lab, where I had been known to start a fire or two, and it got me off campus as we played various colleges in the metro NYC area.
One of the first games I remember playing was in Brooklyn. We boarded the mini bus/van and made the hour or so commute due to the heavy traffic. The field was in what looked to be a city park, a shady park to say the least. Homeless people were sleeping on benches, shady deals were being made, it would have made a great movie set! I knew things would be interesting when the Police showed up to supervise our game and make sure we could use the restrooms safely. I felt like we were playing a pick-up game of softball in a prison yard!
Surrounded on all 4 sides by streets as I stood in the outfield, I could hear the music emanating from the cars, rude men yelling stuff at us as they walked by and could feel the hustle and bustle of the city. Quite a different playing experience from the secluded Marymount field on a quiet suburban street.
As the game progressed, I was doing pretty well concentrating on the ball instead of the crazies all around until the 3 of us in the outfield heard a gun shot and we all dropped to the field like we were doing suicide push-ups. We all thought we were pretty smart in getting out of the way of the cross fire until the umpire trotted out to let us know that a car had just back fired and could we get up so the game could continue? Let's just say, the end of the game couldn't come too quickly!
As my years at Marymount passed, I was always looking for ways to make more spending money. I worked as a guide for the International School on Campus, prepped basic lab classes for my mentor, gave tours of the school as an Ambassador, ushered at events on campus, until I found a really sweet deal. I became a mini bus/van driver. So now as we went off to play softball, I got paid for the entire time I was gone and got to do something I loved! The team would load up, we would pile into the van and it was like our very own Partridge Family road trip every time! I had hit pay dirt with this job!
Now I play softball in a Rec and Ed league in Ann Arbor. There are no cattle calls, gun fire or crazy van rides. I don't get paid to play. But as an adult, there is at least beer, and that somehow makes it all OK.
At Marymount, I decided to go out for the softball team as a freshmen and made it along with several of my friends that I then spent the next 4 years playing with. Softball was a welcome distraction from the Chem lab, where I had been known to start a fire or two, and it got me off campus as we played various colleges in the metro NYC area.
One of the first games I remember playing was in Brooklyn. We boarded the mini bus/van and made the hour or so commute due to the heavy traffic. The field was in what looked to be a city park, a shady park to say the least. Homeless people were sleeping on benches, shady deals were being made, it would have made a great movie set! I knew things would be interesting when the Police showed up to supervise our game and make sure we could use the restrooms safely. I felt like we were playing a pick-up game of softball in a prison yard!
Surrounded on all 4 sides by streets as I stood in the outfield, I could hear the music emanating from the cars, rude men yelling stuff at us as they walked by and could feel the hustle and bustle of the city. Quite a different playing experience from the secluded Marymount field on a quiet suburban street.
As the game progressed, I was doing pretty well concentrating on the ball instead of the crazies all around until the 3 of us in the outfield heard a gun shot and we all dropped to the field like we were doing suicide push-ups. We all thought we were pretty smart in getting out of the way of the cross fire until the umpire trotted out to let us know that a car had just back fired and could we get up so the game could continue? Let's just say, the end of the game couldn't come too quickly!
As my years at Marymount passed, I was always looking for ways to make more spending money. I worked as a guide for the International School on Campus, prepped basic lab classes for my mentor, gave tours of the school as an Ambassador, ushered at events on campus, until I found a really sweet deal. I became a mini bus/van driver. So now as we went off to play softball, I got paid for the entire time I was gone and got to do something I loved! The team would load up, we would pile into the van and it was like our very own Partridge Family road trip every time! I had hit pay dirt with this job!
Now I play softball in a Rec and Ed league in Ann Arbor. There are no cattle calls, gun fire or crazy van rides. I don't get paid to play. But as an adult, there is at least beer, and that somehow makes it all OK.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
