Love of the Game - Pt 1

We signed Blayne up to play t-ball this week.  I can't even begin to tell you how excited I am.  This has also brought back so many memories of my own years of playing softball.  Memories that I want to record and what better way than on my blog, right?

This will be a series, it will have to be.  I have so much to write.  I will also be adding to it, I'm sure.

If any of my old teammates read this, I ask that you add a memory in the comments... :) Love you all!

~For the Love of the Game~

part 1

I started playing softball when I was five.  In the town I grew up in, we didn't have a facility for girls to play.  I'm not exactly sure of the details, (i was five!) but somehow some land was donated.  The land was formerly used as a dump.  We spent many, many, MANY hours picking up rocks, trash, and other obstacles.

My friend, Em's dad used his equipment to flatten the earth and mold the precious land into playable field for the girls of Bristow.

I can remember we were taught to be very careful when sliding, girls would tear up their bodies on the rocks and pebbles in the land.  

During games and practices, you would notice coaches and even some of the players picking up rocks and throwing them off the field.

I loved that little piece of land.  It taught me how to appreciate a field.  It taught me that a bad bounce, still must be played.  It taught me that something that was once used as trash, can be beautiful.

My best friend, Amy, and I would be put on riding lawnmowers while our dads would man weed eaters. Sitting here writing this, I am over come with emotion. Our fathers worked so very hard for their girls to be able to have something as wonderful as the boys in our town had had for years.  

As I grew, my dad became my softball coach.  Amy was the best pitcher in the state, and we had a great group of girls on our team.  We grew together, played together, and eventually, won together... a lot.  By the time we were 13, we were playing competitive ball and winning most of the time.  If you hear my dad tell the story, he can tell you about each and every win, loss, and most of the great plays.

I remember traveling to softball games sitting in the back of our truck (I KNOW, RIGHT??) with six other girls, singing songs and laughing.  I remember Judy being in the dugout.  When my dad pissed me off (which he was a pro at, love ya dad) she would hug me and tell me something funny.  I remember the chants we would sing when one of our players were up to bat.  I remember laying on blankets waiting for the next game during a tournament.  I remember eating my weight in skittles while my buddy ate her weight in chocolate chip ice cream. :)   I remember having three Jennifer's on my team, however only one was called Jen.  I was Rudy, and Clyde was.... well, Clyde.  I remember that it was imperative to tell the other team good job when the game was over, and we would be friends.  On the field, fierce enemies, off the field, pre-teen girls. I remember that game time meant serious time, but once the last out was called, it was time to act silly again. You came to work to work.  

I remember my grandparents being at every.single.game.

I remember the last game we played together.  It was a tournament in Henryetta, Oklahoma.  I didn't know it would be our last game together... I didn't know we would move in January.  

~*****~

***Day 3 of 30***