Softball Soreness

About a month ago, I agreed to play softball with some guys on my team at work. They needed guys, and I used to play. It sounded like it would be a lot of fun. A few problems:

1. They wanted to play at 8am. That meant getting there before 8am. Which meant waking up before 8am. I haven't woken up before 8am on a Saturday in years.
2. They wanted to play at Sandy Lake in Carrolton. That's a good 20-30 minute drive from my apartment, even with zero traffic.
3. They wanted to play in late June in Texas. Temperature 90+ even that early in the day...and right at 100 when the tournament would end.

I knew #3 was going to be an issue when I signed up (although, in my defense, things were still cooler when I signed up). Items 2 and 3 were brought to my attention later, in addition to the fact that I'd need to be there between 7am and 7:30am. Which would mean getting up before 7am.

So I woke up, extremely reluctantly, at 6:25am on Saturday. I took a quick shower, grabbed my glove, a big bottle of water, and I started my drive to Carrolton.

Let me first say that I've played about one game of softball - an intramural game in college. Before that, we're talking high school baseball...which, sadly enough, was about 7 years ago. At some point, I think I've lost my "good" glove from baseball. All I have is my older glove from freshman year. This glove sucks.

But I found that throwing/catching a softball isn't a whole lot different than a baseball. And because of my prior experience (which was probably higher than most of the guys/girls playing), I was pretty good in terms of throwing.

The leader in all of this is my team lead at work, and he's really into this game. He wants to win really badly, I guess for the bragging rights, and he's relying on me a bit. I'm a nervous about keeping up the expectations, but I'd gone to the batting cages a couple times and felt pretty good about hitting.

Defensively, I was a bit more nervous. He wanted to put me in the outfield...mostly because he wouldn't have to worry about my knowledge of the game and because he knew I played tennis. To him, that meant that I was in shape.

(Tucker can probably stop laughing now. He knows that, despite the fact that I've been playing tennis with him about once a week for six months, I'm not really "in shape." I'm getting better and I think I look like I'm in good shape. But I wouldn't really consider myself "in shape.")

The only problem is that I've always been terrible at outfield. I have above-average hand-eye coordination...I can put my hand/glove/racket out in a place where I'm pretty sure the ball will be. And nine times out of ten, I'll be right. If I'm good at any sport, this is the primary reason. It's why I have the ability to hit a baseball even though I don't really look at the ball.

(The "not looking at the ball" thing is why I never learned to hit a curve ball. My hand-eye coordination told me where the ball should've been...that's where I swung...but the ball was no longer there.)

But, for some reason, I'm not good at judging fly balls. I was great in the infield, but I was bad at the trajectory of fly balls. In fact, in high school, a fly ball actually hit me in the head.

I didn't say anything - mostly not to embarrass myself - but also because I was pretty sure I could handle it. And I'll go ahead and say that I didn't embarrass myself. At least, not in the outfield.

So I get there at the ungodly time of 7:15am, and we get to work. I get all warm, and I get ready to play. Jason (boss man) tells me that I'm leading off. More pressure on me and my increasingly-long-time-ago resume. He also says that I'm the youngest and thus should be the fastest. I laugh at that too because I've never been fast.

But we do have a solid team and quickly get out of the first inning. I come up to bat, a bit nervous but feeling good from the cages, and I get a quick single. A bit later, I score a run. Nine batters later, we already have an 8-0 lead, and I'm up to bat again. I've already had a hit and a run, and we're already up big. Here comes the pitch.

And I destroy this ball. It's probably 300 feet to the walls at this softball park, and I probably hit it that far in the air. Unfortunately, I hit it to left-center, and it drops before the wall. I never got an answer about how close it was to going out, but I'm fairly certain that it was the longest ball hit in either of our games that day.

Safe to say, it went for a home run. We slowed down a bit, but I went 2-3 with a HR in the first game. We won 17-3.

We had the very-unusual "second round bye" in this 6-team tournament, so our first round win meant an automatic bid in the championship. That might sound strange, but this was a 4-inning game softball tournament...so don't worry about that.

We rested up between games and got a good feel for our opponents. When it was time to play, we batted first this time. Because of my Ian Kinsler impression in the first time (leadoff hitter with HR power, apparently), I was moved to second in the lineup for the championship game. After the new leadoff guy singled, I doubled him in. Probably should've been a triple, according to the base coaches, but I scored either way.

A few batters later, I was up again. And, just like I did in the first game, I destroy another ball in my second at bat. Another home run. And another 10-0 lead in the first inning.

It was 10-3 going into the bottom of the 3rd inning when the coach made a substitution. He took out our usual 3rd baseman, and he was going to put someone else at 3rd. I realized that I hadn't been burned in the outfield yet so I volunteered to play 3rd. No one had a problem with it so that's where I went.

That's when I realized that my glove was probably too small for softball. It was a baseball infielder's glove...so think what you will. I didn't worry about it too much until the first grounder came my way. There were already two runners on, and the ball came right to me. I swoop it up correctly, and I reach to tag the runner.

And even though he was a man of some size, he was able to dance around me. No out, bases are loaded. The next ball was hit to the left of me, and I made a bit of a dive to get the ball. I stopped it, but I was unable to make a throw. Everyone's safe again.

In my defense, that was a tough play. In the prosecution's defense, I probably should've let the shortstop get it. But I used to play shortstop, and that meant that I was supposed to get everything that I could get to. It was a reaction, and I don't think I had any control.

We ended up giving up 4 runs, trimming the lead to 10-7. In the top half of the final inning, I was finally walked. I got another single in my final at bat (yes, we batted around again), and we took a 17-7 lead. Thankfully, I was pulled for the final half of the fourth inning. I no longer, really, trusted my defense, and it was a million degrees. I think I drank two bottles of water in those four innings.

We ended up hanging on, winning this little tournament.

And, all in all, it was a lot more fun that I would've thought. It was still way too early, way too far away, and way too hot...but I was able to go 5-6 with two HRs, a double, and a walk. I also had at least 5 RBIs, although I didn't really keep track. My defense wasn't great, but neither "error" really screwed us over. And, of course, we emerged as the champions.

I pretty much left immediately to get home and get ready to go to my friend Ben's wedding in Tyler. I knew that I was going to be sore because, as soon as I got home from the game, my legs were already sore. I do play tennis, but I sprinted a lot more than I usually do yesterday. By the time we got to Tyler (2 hour drive), my legs were definitely feeling sore.

(Side story that probably won't be good enough for a blog - Ashley drove to Tyler and we obviously gave way too much time. We were there an hour and a half early for the wedding, and we had to kill all that time...in Tyler. That was interesting).

This morning, every movement was painful. My thighs and groin are very sore, and even parts of my lower back and legs are sore. It hurt to stand up, sit down, or adjust my legs in any way. I probably said "ow" about a hundred times.

But after an exhausting day yesterday, I didn't really need to do much. I took the trash, did some laundry, and watched Speed Racer. I went to the store, but that was about it. And, no, I didn't try picking anyone up.

I guess that's the price I pay for playing softball, though. And even though it was painful and tiring, I guess I'll reluctantly admit that I had fun.