Friday
Apr302010
Flashback Friday: Annals of Junior High Fame
Friday, April 30, 2010 at 9:40AM
Reflecting on lessons, experiences and nerdiness and how it’s shaped me as an adult and parent-to-be.
This particular Flashback Friday is moral/lesson-free. It’s just the story I was thinking about what with spring in the air and baseball on the ground. It's also kind of long - get over it.
I played softball in 6th grade and 8th grade. I skipped seventh for two reasons: 1. All my friends ditched me so I preferred not to be around people who hated me and 2. I didn’t like softball for crap. So, why did I play in 8th grade? Who the hell knows. I guess just to prove something to myself. And what I proved is a theory I had all along: I do not like balls flying at my face. (Yes, you can take that in the perverted way, too, you nasty-minded thing.)
Let me a’splain this wondrous event in my life.
I was on the shitty of shit teams. Where all the other teams had cool names like the Tigers and the Bears we were The New Kids because we were the newest team – which meant all the GOOD players were already assigned to established teams. Where all the other teams had cool colored team shirts like yellow and red, we had, yes, FUSCIA. Our team had all the people who get picked last during gym.
And I was one of the worst.
I have an athletic build and am athletically inclined when it comes to non-group sports. I ROCK in step class. In martial arts, where I ALMOST made it to black belt had I not been petrified of sparring (see, group things), I rocked doing forms. It’s when it comes to someone else potentially paralyzing me from the neck down that I can’t handle it.
So, I usually got put in right field where no one ever hit.
On this particular day in 1994 we were playing the best team. The undefeated team. The team that wore BLACK shirts and had a name like THE KILLERS WHO WILL KILL YOU. The team that had all the popular kids. We, on the other hand, had not won a single freakin’ game.
But this day was a miracle day. It was a day straight out of the movies. THE KILLERS WHO WILL KILL YOU had underestimated the The New Kids and we were WINNING. It was amazing. We were on a high. A nervous high because we knew we could lose the lead at any minute.
I, as usual, was in right field wearing my bright red glove (because the color was cooler than the normal brown and, you know, matched SO well with my fuscia shirt). My bangs were doing their standard split down the middle and I was sporting my gold-rimmed glasses. My dad was in the stands.
This chick gets up to bat. She’s in my grade. We used to be friends until I was deemed uberly uncool. They had two outs, and two people on base. The pitcher pitches. And she CRACKS it. Just absolutely SLAMS the ball. It’s a pop fly.
To right field.
Time slows down and I’m thinking, “Oh my God. This is my chance. My chance to CHANGE MY IMAGE. If I catch this ball and end this inning – against THIS girl – I’ll be a hero! I’ll keep up our team’s streak and I. WILL. ROCK. I will go down in the annals of junior high history as having the fastest rise of out geekdom EVER.”
I put up my glove.
Apparently, as my dad was watching, his train of thought was different than mine. His went like this, “Liza, just get OUT OF THE WAY! Just MOVE! Don’t even try to catch it!”
I wish I could have read his mind.
Here comes the ball and my chance to be hoisted overhead by my cheering and adoring team….
And the ball lands on my face. More specifically, on my right eye, popping out one of my lenses on my gold-rimmed glasses and sending them flying to the dirt in two pieces.
It lands on my face sending me into a fit of screaming tears. It hurt like hell and my dreams of 8th grade softball stardom die instantly, in one horrifically embarrassing moment, in front of everyone. In front of the popular kids. In front of THE KILLERS WHO WILL KILL YOU. And all I can think is that they didn’t need to kill me. I just killed myself.
And I think they won.
I had a black eye for the next several days at school. Which, when you’re unpopular and not a lot of people like you anyway, makes you feel like you’re walking around with shit-stained shorts.
The girl who hit the ball apologized a lot, but I just imagined her going back to her friends after each apology saying, “I just keep saying I’m sorry so I can see her black eye up close!” And then high-fiving everyone.
But if I could do it all again today, I’d probably still get hit in the face. And then I’d wittily insult the shit out of the other team – while running the other direction.
This particular Flashback Friday is moral/lesson-free. It’s just the story I was thinking about what with spring in the air and baseball on the ground. It's also kind of long - get over it.
I played softball in 6th grade and 8th grade. I skipped seventh for two reasons: 1. All my friends ditched me so I preferred not to be around people who hated me and 2. I didn’t like softball for crap. So, why did I play in 8th grade? Who the hell knows. I guess just to prove something to myself. And what I proved is a theory I had all along: I do not like balls flying at my face. (Yes, you can take that in the perverted way, too, you nasty-minded thing.)
Let me a’splain this wondrous event in my life.
I was on the shitty of shit teams. Where all the other teams had cool names like the Tigers and the Bears we were The New Kids because we were the newest team – which meant all the GOOD players were already assigned to established teams. Where all the other teams had cool colored team shirts like yellow and red, we had, yes, FUSCIA. Our team had all the people who get picked last during gym.
And I was one of the worst.
I have an athletic build and am athletically inclined when it comes to non-group sports. I ROCK in step class. In martial arts, where I ALMOST made it to black belt had I not been petrified of sparring (see, group things), I rocked doing forms. It’s when it comes to someone else potentially paralyzing me from the neck down that I can’t handle it.
So, I usually got put in right field where no one ever hit.
On this particular day in 1994 we were playing the best team. The undefeated team. The team that wore BLACK shirts and had a name like THE KILLERS WHO WILL KILL YOU. The team that had all the popular kids. We, on the other hand, had not won a single freakin’ game.
But this day was a miracle day. It was a day straight out of the movies. THE KILLERS WHO WILL KILL YOU had underestimated the The New Kids and we were WINNING. It was amazing. We were on a high. A nervous high because we knew we could lose the lead at any minute.
I, as usual, was in right field wearing my bright red glove (because the color was cooler than the normal brown and, you know, matched SO well with my fuscia shirt). My bangs were doing their standard split down the middle and I was sporting my gold-rimmed glasses. My dad was in the stands.
This chick gets up to bat. She’s in my grade. We used to be friends until I was deemed uberly uncool. They had two outs, and two people on base. The pitcher pitches. And she CRACKS it. Just absolutely SLAMS the ball. It’s a pop fly.
To right field.
Time slows down and I’m thinking, “Oh my God. This is my chance. My chance to CHANGE MY IMAGE. If I catch this ball and end this inning – against THIS girl – I’ll be a hero! I’ll keep up our team’s streak and I. WILL. ROCK. I will go down in the annals of junior high history as having the fastest rise of out geekdom EVER.”
I put up my glove.
Apparently, as my dad was watching, his train of thought was different than mine. His went like this, “Liza, just get OUT OF THE WAY! Just MOVE! Don’t even try to catch it!”
I wish I could have read his mind.
Here comes the ball and my chance to be hoisted overhead by my cheering and adoring team….
And the ball lands on my face. More specifically, on my right eye, popping out one of my lenses on my gold-rimmed glasses and sending them flying to the dirt in two pieces.
It lands on my face sending me into a fit of screaming tears. It hurt like hell and my dreams of 8th grade softball stardom die instantly, in one horrifically embarrassing moment, in front of everyone. In front of the popular kids. In front of THE KILLERS WHO WILL KILL YOU. And all I can think is that they didn’t need to kill me. I just killed myself.
And I think they won.
I had a black eye for the next several days at school. Which, when you’re unpopular and not a lot of people like you anyway, makes you feel like you’re walking around with shit-stained shorts.
The girl who hit the ball apologized a lot, but I just imagined her going back to her friends after each apology saying, “I just keep saying I’m sorry so I can see her black eye up close!” And then high-fiving everyone.
But if I could do it all again today, I’d probably still get hit in the face. And then I’d wittily insult the shit out of the other team – while running the other direction.
Copyright; 2011, Blahggy. All rights reserved.
Reader Comments (7)
Visiting from SITS
Your post just took me back to elementary & middle school when I was always the last kid picked for teams! Like you I would probably insult the kids now & run the other way. Ah the awkwardness of adolesence!
haha, you are hilarious, and a GREAT story teller. I could totally picture this in my head as a REAL movie :)
I'm coming over here from SITS for Saturday Share Fest! Glad I commented after you because I just LOVE your blog! Just subscribed to rss feed and now following you on twitter. I look forward to getting to know you better.
Have a great weekend!
So...WHO WON THE GAME??? Great story. Aren't you glad you're no longer in junior high? Arggghhh what a painful period kids are forced to endure. have a happy saturday sharefest.
dianeswords.wordpress.com
Bianca - Isn't it nice that it's all behind us now?
Crystal - Thanks! I stopped by your blog and commented. Your family is adorable!
Diane - Oh! I didn't mention who won, did I? Hahaha! I think they won. I can't actually remember. Maybe we won and my mistake didn't totally mess us up. I honestly can't remember! I probably blocked it out.
Stopping by from D-Listed!
AWESOME story, and one not unlike a softball story I have where the ball hit me IN MY MOUTH and got my braces STUCK TO THE INSIDES OF MY LIPS.
Awesome, I tell you.
@Miranda - Oh, wow. We should make a YouTube video to recreate those highlights in our lives.
Oh wow this was very well written - takes me back to junior high days. How glad I am not to be there anymore. ;)