Absolutely Bananas: Seattle mom blog

Ain’t that a kick in the head (Bananas plays kickball)

“We need players!” the email reads, “to compete in the annual women’s kickball tournament next Saturday.  Come out and represent our school!”

It’s how I always get myself in trouble… I’m sitting at my computer late at night and I think, “Ooh, kickball with the other moms, that could be fun!”  Which is something I would never think in the bright light of day.

“SIGN ME UP!” I shout in email to the entire school.  I have committed.  I should BE committed.

What have I done?!  It’s three days before the big event and I’m watching In the Motherhood.  It’s the episode where one of the main characters plays kickball for her work team.  Except she’s really really bad and the other players are mean and they yell at her and she falls down and everyone is laughing and her hip hurts and OH MY LAND AND STARS WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?!?!

Fast forward to the afternoon before the tournament in which I am sitting at my computer and I suddenly realize in flash of brilliance that a TOURNAMENT means you play MORE THAN ONE GAME!!!  

I begin to hyperventilate and I shout at Jay, “I DON’T THINK I’M UP FOR THIS I DON’T EVEN HAVE A GREEN SHIRT TO WEAR AND DID YOU REALIZE A TOURNAMENT MEANS MORE THAN ONE GAME?!”  

He just rolls his eyes at me and reminds me to bring my inhaler.  I dig through his drawers and find a ratty green shirt emblazoned with superheroes and put it on.  It’s tight but it’s green and the email definitely said we should all wear GREEN.

I put my inhaler and a packet of Ibuprofen in my pocket, fill up my water bottle and nervously climb into the car.  ”This will be FUN!” I tell myself, but my self is not feeling convinced.

The field is dotted with women in brightly colored shirts. I look around for my green-shirted cohorts but they seem to be missing.

“Jen!” someone is waving at me and then I see my team. Only not a single one of them is wearing green and also their shirts aren’t tight or ratty.  But at least they’re here.

We huddle to review the rules and discuss how long it’s been since we played kick ball. It’s been a loooong time.  

It’s fairly clear to me that we have some competitors on our team.  They’re talking strategy and positions and they aren’t even laughing when I make jokes.  FUNNY jokes… at least I think so.

My hip hurts and I feel the need to lie down.

“I feel sick I’m so nervous,” Rebecca whispers, “I had really bad experiences playing sports in school and I thought it would be ok but this is bringing it all back.”  She looks around nervously and wipes her forehead.

I nod sympathetically, “Oh I understand, believe me. But this is different.  It’s moms.  It’ll be fun!”  But even as I say it I remember how moms can be mean sometimes and I feel a pang of nervousness.

Rebecca must’ve felt it too because when it’s time to start the game she has completely disappeared.  We don’t see her again for the rest of the night.  

I take a deep breath.  The truth is I’m nervous but also feeling excited.  It’s a beautiful evening and there’s an unmistakable energy all around that makes me feel young and free and athletic.  

Which is how people get injured.

And sure enough, in the first play of the first inning one of our best players goes down to a knee injury.  I look sympathetically at her lying on the ground huddled under a blanket and I promise myself, “I am going to run very slowly and carefully.”

But the fun thing about kickball is that the ball is approximately the size of my head and perfectly soft and squishy so pretty much anybody can kick it and when you kick it your adrenaline SURGES and you RUN LIKE THE WIND.  Or at least you feel like you’re running like the wind.  

Another great thing is that most of the players are really pretty bad which means you actually get on base. And let me tell you something about getting on base… it feels GOOD.  Your heart is pounding and you’re in position and then they kick the ball and you’re RUNNING LIKE THE WIND and maybe you should slide into 2nd base. Of course you don’t slide into second because you’re not that stupid and you wouldn’t know where to begin with the sliding, but still you thought about it and even that was exciting.

I love kickball.

At the end of the tournament when my team is solidly in last place we do a final team cheer and discuss how well we’d do next year if we actually practiced.  We might even win a game.

I drive home feeling stiff and sore and tired, but also light… free… happy. 

I’m going to commit to more crazy things late at night, I think.

Who knows where this could lead.  

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