"This is a very simple game. You throw the ball, you catch the ball, you hit the ball."
In the Hubley league, I was a homerun hitter, mostly due to the fact
that I was older than most of the kids in the neighborhood.
This didn't translate so well into other leagues.
For example, when I tried out for the Junior High baseball team the first year, I was in the first round of cuts. The first thing we did was warm up by throwing the ball back and forth. All around me was the smack of the ball hitting leather gloves, and I suddenly felt the pressure to throw the ball hard and make a similar smack on my partner's glove. I wasn't used to this kind of throwing. There was very little of it in the Hubley league. If you didn't catch the ball in the outfield, there was a good chance that all the runners would go home. And if you got the ball in the infield, there was no one to throw it to. By the end of the "warm up" my arm was numb.
The second and third years I tried out weren't much better, but the third year was the heartbreaker. Students in grade nine got priority over the other students because it was their last year in Jr. High. I had designed my own weight system. Practiced ground balls by bouncing a tennis ball off the side of the house for hours and played as much as I could in the Hubley league. And even though I thought I did better, I still didn't make the team.
I tried out one year in High School. I switched strategies a little. I chose second base as my position because I figured fewer people would try out for that position. I was and am most comfortable in the outfield, but it was already crowded there. After the arm killing "warm up" we took infield practice. The coach hit ground balls to us to field. Everyone else was like a well-oiled machine, and I felt like a cracked gear messing things up.
You see, I understand now that no matter where the ball is hit, every fielder should do something. If the ball is hit to the left side of the infield, the second baseman covers second base. If it's to the right side, and the first baseman gets the ball, the second baseman runs over to cover first. If it's hit to right field or right-centre, the second baseman goes halfway between the infield and outfield to act as a cutoff man (an in-between guy because the outfielder isn't likely to make an accurate throw from far out). And if it's hit to left field or left-centre, the second baseman covers second while the short stop acts as the cutoff.
I know that now. But then, I stood bewildered while everyone moved around me. No one told me this stuff. How was I supposed to know?
A few years ago, I bought Wilma a book called Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend: Women Writers on Baseball. It was a selection of writings about baseball by female authors. The deal was she would watch baseball with me if she could read the book. At the time, I was trying to interest her in baseball. It didn't work, but I did come across some interesting articles.
In her introduction, Elinor Nauen says that women can enjoy baseball more than men because they don’t have the looming sense of failure related to sports that men have. Men feel as if they are watching professional baseball because they are unable to play it, where as women don’t feel the pressure, and can therefore simply enjoy the spectacle.
While I’m not sure that women don’t feel the pressure to perform at a sport they enjoy (or, instead, feel a certain amount of resentment that few of their gender participate at in the sport at a professional level) I do know that I personally feel that sense of failure. Even though I love baseball, watch games, follow players and teams, collect cards and figures, play fantasy baseball online, computer baseball games, and on a beer league slo-pitch team, I still feel that nagging sense that, in some way, I have fallen short. Not only did I fail to make it to professional baseball, I couldn’t even make my junior high softball team.
that I was older than most of the kids in the neighborhood.
This didn't translate so well into other leagues.
For example, when I tried out for the Junior High baseball team the first year, I was in the first round of cuts. The first thing we did was warm up by throwing the ball back and forth. All around me was the smack of the ball hitting leather gloves, and I suddenly felt the pressure to throw the ball hard and make a similar smack on my partner's glove. I wasn't used to this kind of throwing. There was very little of it in the Hubley league. If you didn't catch the ball in the outfield, there was a good chance that all the runners would go home. And if you got the ball in the infield, there was no one to throw it to. By the end of the "warm up" my arm was numb.
The second and third years I tried out weren't much better, but the third year was the heartbreaker. Students in grade nine got priority over the other students because it was their last year in Jr. High. I had designed my own weight system. Practiced ground balls by bouncing a tennis ball off the side of the house for hours and played as much as I could in the Hubley league. And even though I thought I did better, I still didn't make the team.
I tried out one year in High School. I switched strategies a little. I chose second base as my position because I figured fewer people would try out for that position. I was and am most comfortable in the outfield, but it was already crowded there. After the arm killing "warm up" we took infield practice. The coach hit ground balls to us to field. Everyone else was like a well-oiled machine, and I felt like a cracked gear messing things up.
You see, I understand now that no matter where the ball is hit, every fielder should do something. If the ball is hit to the left side of the infield, the second baseman covers second base. If it's to the right side, and the first baseman gets the ball, the second baseman runs over to cover first. If it's hit to right field or right-centre, the second baseman goes halfway between the infield and outfield to act as a cutoff man (an in-between guy because the outfielder isn't likely to make an accurate throw from far out). And if it's hit to left field or left-centre, the second baseman covers second while the short stop acts as the cutoff.
I know that now. But then, I stood bewildered while everyone moved around me. No one told me this stuff. How was I supposed to know?
A few years ago, I bought Wilma a book called Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend: Women Writers on Baseball. It was a selection of writings about baseball by female authors. The deal was she would watch baseball with me if she could read the book. At the time, I was trying to interest her in baseball. It didn't work, but I did come across some interesting articles.
In her introduction, Elinor Nauen says that women can enjoy baseball more than men because they don’t have the looming sense of failure related to sports that men have. Men feel as if they are watching professional baseball because they are unable to play it, where as women don’t feel the pressure, and can therefore simply enjoy the spectacle.
While I’m not sure that women don’t feel the pressure to perform at a sport they enjoy (or, instead, feel a certain amount of resentment that few of their gender participate at in the sport at a professional level) I do know that I personally feel that sense of failure. Even though I love baseball, watch games, follow players and teams, collect cards and figures, play fantasy baseball online, computer baseball games, and on a beer league slo-pitch team, I still feel that nagging sense that, in some way, I have fallen short. Not only did I fail to make it to professional baseball, I couldn’t even make my junior high softball team.
posted by deadwriter at 10:43 p.m.
2 Comments:
You're not automatically good at something because you like it. Billions of people enjoy music but can't play an instrument.
You need to be happy with what you can do, and the fact that you found something that you enjoy, rather than being frustrated by not being "good enough".
i feel your pain... i was good enough to make my junior high team in grade nine but we only had one day of tryouts. during the whole time i got one ball hit to me. i bobbled it and then threw it over the cutoffs head... i could tell that the copach had cut me right then and there.
but i don't feel the snese of failure. i instead feel almost sorry for professional sports players. while i'm sure i would not complain about making millions for playing a game, i somehow feel i wouldn't feel fulfilled about any impact i made on the world. not that i make a tremendous impact now but between my job, my friends, my family and church stuff, i feel like i'm leaving a mark for a better reason than to entertain the masses. you should feel the same about writing friends and family.
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