My brother and me in the front yard, getting ready to go to a picnic with our group of friends in a nearby park. We’re in our late teens. Baseball was on the menu. I have no idea why the planet Saturn is circling between my feet. I was ready to play ball. Listen, I was on a Little League team when I was a kid BEFORE this country got its act together and created girls’ leagues. I had seen Bad News Bears. There was no WAY I wasn’t going to participate. I was the only girl on my Little League team. How did I get the guts for that? I don’t even remember it being an issue. I was determined to play, so I signed up and I played. I was a child unconcerned with convention (I quit Girl Scouts on the day they made us make duffel bags. I looked around and remember clearly thinking, “Oh hell to the no I am not spending my afternoon doing this.”) I was a tomboy. Not really a jock, but a sports fan. I saw no reason to not try out for Little League, and my parents saw no need to dissuade me. My dad had coached some Little League teams too. I’m proud of myself, my little 10 year old self, for not giving a damn about what other girls were doing, for not thinking that I too should yearn to make duffel bags and cupcakes, just because that’s what was assumed were activities all girls enjoyed, or that I was the only girl on that baseball team. I was not a good outfielder, but I was aces at the plate. I always made contact with the ball. In case you were wondering. Which of course you were not. Listen, the world is a raging tirefire at present. Taking 5 minutes to remember a blazing summery day when my brother and I set out into the leafy green neighborhood, battered baseball gloves under our arms, gloves we had had for years, to play a baseball game with our friends, is a good thing.
yes, indeed!
What a great picture! This brings up lots of memories. Funny, I grew up playing 16 inch softball, we didn’t have gloves. I used to dread it though, my high school boyfriend was a school basketball player, but loved softball in the summer. So they would get a game together, I would be the only girl, and therefore was the pitcher. Now his friends were all athletes, some on the baseball team, and I am lobbing them my soft pitches. I’ll never forget the time one of the guys hit a line drive that hit me right in the throat, only to have my boyfriend grab the ball and make the play at first-then check on how I was! I’m not kidding, I used to shake in my boots when I was drafted for these games, but I was doing my Rosalind Russell “I’m a better man than you!” impression, which did endear me to my boyfriend, but was rough on me physically.