I'm sorry, it's another old picture of me. Say hello to my former, 17 year old, softball-playing self.
(Why am I in the basketball gym you ask? That is a good question, and I have no explanation.)
When I joined the softball team it was really for the fun and social aspect of the sport, not because I was in any way athletically gifted or experienced (quite the opposite actually). To put it bluntly: I was clueless and without an ounce of natural talent. But as I went to a small school and the team needed numbers to play, I joined up with my best friend and ventured into the world of high school fast-pitch softball with enthusiasm.
The first step was to get me the proper gear, so my parents took me to a sports store to pick out a glove. In a very unfortunate turn of events that day, there was one glove in particular that was on a special sale, $20 cheaper than the other gloves, and it was bright blue. And of course my very frugal parents forced me to get it, instead of the black one that I wanted, and in my teenage opinion, RUINED MY LIFE.
All I saw ahead of me was laughter and ridicule for not having a brown or black glove like all the other players, and I'm pretty sure I wanted to quit the team right then and there.
There was much coercing and reassuring however, and I braved the first practice with my bright blue glove and found that I was the only one that really cared after all (those darn parents that are always right!).
I was still embarrassed about it though... enough so that when it was announced at school one day that the girls softball team would be practicing at an away field with the boys baseball team that afternoon I felt the need to get out of practice pronto. I didn't want boys to see my glove!
So I lied. I made up a story about it being "my time of the month" and having terrible cramps and not being able to barely walk, and I skipped practice. Because of my blue glove.
I am a dork. Little did I know that we would be traveling with the boys to away games quite often and not only would they see my glove but also my inability to catch a ball in the outfield or slide into base.
Turns out I had bigger problems to be embarrassed of than the color of my mitt.
I was still embarrassed about it though... enough so that when it was announced at school one day that the girls softball team would be practicing at an away field with the boys baseball team that afternoon I felt the need to get out of practice pronto. I didn't want boys to see my glove!
So I lied. I made up a story about it being "my time of the month" and having terrible cramps and not being able to barely walk, and I skipped practice. Because of my blue glove.
I am a dork. Little did I know that we would be traveling with the boys to away games quite often and not only would they see my glove but also my inability to catch a ball in the outfield or slide into base.
Turns out I had bigger problems to be embarrassed of than the color of my mitt.





