My Kickball Team, or How I Spend My Monday Nights

Last Monday night my kickball team came dangerously close to ruining our one-loss-per-season streak. Against a team that hadn’t WON a single game. And who were fairly skeezy kickball players. That's right, skeezy.

I should start by saying this is how we spend our Monday nights: dressing in silly costumes, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, and running the bases with all we’ve got. And our team rocks. We refuse to create a batting order, give out an award each week for the person who has most sacrificed their body for the game (read: bleeding most profusely), and generally try not to take it too seriously.

Until we meet another team that does take it too seriously. This last team was pretty good, but they also played pretty dirty. The pitcher was hurling balls at our batters so fast that we barely had a chance to kick. One runner took out our second basewoman as he was rounding the base. And one husky woman kept trying to lead off the base (this is what we call cheating).

After I saw that, I knew I had to keep an eye on her. She was one of those ex-softball player types, and reminded me of Velda, Shelley Long’s troop leader foe from Troop Beverly Hills (don’t pretend like you don’t know who I’m talking about). Velda, as I’ll call her, bossed her team around, edged in off of the grass when the girls kicked (also cheating), and generally made me mad. I’m sure I sounded like a little whiny brat when I was trying to get someone—anyone—to pay attention to my pleas to watch as she led off. But kickball is about having fun! It’s not about cheating! I’ll whine if I have to to protect the integrity of this game!

In the fifth inning my mom, who was in the stands, began cheering for me as I walked up to the plate. “Do a Leckonby!” she yelled, referencing my boyfriend’s earlier two-run-producing kick. Thanks Mom, I always love to be held up to someone else’s standard of athleticism, especially my boyfriend's. The resulting kick was a pop fly—right into Velda’s arms. Erg.

The thing with our team is that we have a lot of fun, but only because we manage to beat almost everyone. If we didn’t keep winning, I can’t imagine we would have such a good time. We cheer every time one of our players slides into a base unnecessarily (hence the bleeding), makes a diving catch, or pegs out an opposing player with a great throw (you can do that in kickball! If only that was legal in softball). Oh yes, the glories of kickball are many, especially when your third basemen is wearing a Twinkie costume.