You'd think something interesting could have happened in the last two weeks while I was gone, something profound or wonderful that was worth blogging about. Maybe some life-altering decision, some mind-bending realization, or perhaps...the greatest epiphany ever experienced.
Instead, I'm coaching a girls softball team, 11-12-year-olds. I don't even have girls. Now I know why.
Don't get me wrong. I like girls. They're amusing, they're cute...but they're bonkers.
Ya can't get them to sit still in the dugout, which isn't much different from the boys. But instead of kind of hanging on the fence, cheering on their teammates...they do these dopey choreographed cheers, shaking their asses and doing the frigging Macarena in the dugout.
In response, the girls from the other team dance and cheer louder. And it goes back and forth.
There's no choreographed cheering in softball! When the hell did THAT happen? I didn't do that when I played at that age. Ya went in, ya played, ya cheered your teammates on, and that was it. Now it's now a big frigging Broadway musical?!
And there's this pitcher. She plays on two teams, but our lowly Little League team is her second choice. She shows up one game and expects to pitch, because that is what Madmoiselle does. So she pitches some, and jams her finger on a throw back from the catcher.
OMG, EAR-PIERCING SCREAM, followed by LOUD wailing, and then she crumples--literally crumples, almost like the Wicked Witch of the West but a little faster--onto the mound. Wailing.
The other team's coach goes running out. The one dad who's helping me goes running out. I stand there. I don't quite know what to do. I mean, it's a girl, for starters, and how the hell do I deal with that noise out there? She just wasn't pushing my empathy button. I may not have girls, but I am one, so I figure she's probably overreacting a tad. So I wait a moment, and stroll out there.
"You ok?"
Sniffle. "I dunnnnno....I jjj--jjj---jjjammed my fff--ffff-ffinger." Sniffle.
"All right. Get up and pitch some. See if it still works."
She tries and she can't, so I pull her out, put some ice on her finger, which--miraculously--looks ok. She goes back in and plays 1st base next inning.
A week later, she gets hit in the face with a ball while playing first. Got a big shiner. Still has it.
Must be cosmic softball diva punishment.
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4 comments:
Girls cry all the time. It's their hobby, I think. It's just a matter of time before they do choreographed crying in the dugout.
Well, it's still early in the season. I'm sure more overwrought disasters will occur. In the meantime, however, we actually won our last game, so there's progress.
Cool!! I'm glad you won. I have a list of softball cheers if you'd like them. Yes, girls cheer. All the freakin' time. It's enough to drive you bonkers. You can just call me "yoda" of coaching girls softball.
H.
Gee, thanks but no thanks. They seem to be pretty well-versed in their own cheers and matching choreography. Why can't they just spit and slap each other on the ass like guys do?
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