Back in the day, I played a ton of pickup baseball with the
kid pack that roamed our suburban neighborhood. No softball for me—I played
hardball with the boys, could handle any position, and hit from both sides of
the plate. (Ha! Get your minds out of the gutter!) I played catcher with no
more gear than a first-baseman’s glove, could hold my own on the pitcher’s
mound, and even got a cheer from the guys in the Cape League (single-A ball)
for snagging a fly ball deep in the outfield during the friends-and-family game
one summer.
Suffice it to say that I didn’t used to throw like a girl. (And by that, I mean the goofy overhand
flip-the-wrist-over-the-shoulder thing like this. Not the stuff that good softball players do! They could totally knock my block
off.)
Yesterday, though, the scene went something like this:
Arizona (from upstairs): Can you toss me my brown fleece?
Me (with head in the drier): Yep. Hang on.
(I dig out the fleece in question, head for the bottom of
the stairs where he’s standing at the top, and think, Gotta throw it hard to reach him. Winding up, I give the hardest
underhand toss I can manage—And let go too late. The fleece flies straight up, whams into the ceiling, rattling the
ceiling panel and sending down a shower of dust along with the fleece.)
Arizona (normally the most positive and if-you-can’t-say-something-nice-don’t-say-anything
kind of guy): *hoots* Worst. Throw. Ever!
Me (wearing a layer of dust and a brown fleece draped over
my head): It slipped, or something!
But, really, it’s official: I now throw like a girl. I don’t
know if it’s lack of practice, four decades of shoulder injuries and rotator cuff
problems, or what, but the sidearm is gone and the curve ball is a fond memory.
It’s even fifty-fifty when I toss a paper ball for the cats, whether it’ll go
where I intended or wind up bonking the cat instead. (Much to the cat’s
disgust, I might add.)
So how about you? Did you have your pitching arm and lose
it? Were you always a girl-thrower (hm ... maybe not the right term, that?)? Or are you still a deadeye?
I was barely okay throwing a baseball with the neighborhood boys (it was just 3 boys and me), but I wasn't bad with a football.
ReplyDeleteAnd I agree with losing the pitching arm. What little round ball throwing ability I had is gone now.