Relive the Trauma

This week was the first night with my kickball team.

I’m not sure how I got here. I spent my elementary school world avoiding all group sport events. Neighborhood kickball games in the cul-de-sac were a shameful experience. I can’t kick, run or throw.

I’ve never been much of a sport enthusiast. Some people might call me lazy, but I prefer the words, “voracious reader.”

In my nerd world, which was supposed to be a safe zone from the humiliation of group sports, we’re lining up again and again to play the sports of playground fields. Kickball, Foursquare, Dodgeball. Good Lord. And I am putting the proverbial “kick me” sign on my back by agreeing to join in.

I played Catcher. I found this position confusing. First, you’re supposed to toss the ball back to the pitcher. But you’re also supposed to tag out anyone coming in from third base. I couldn’t keep track of the who, what, when and where. Suffice to say, there wasn’t much catching. In the future, I’d like to think that when people look at me that they assess my athletic prowess and think…outfield. Or perhaps…snack provider.

I don’t understand with all the nostalgic sports that have come back why no one brings back Red Rover. Two opposing groups of children line up across from each other while one child dashes across looking to break the linked arms of some poor small child.

This is a game I could get back into. Think Ultimate Red Rover. Like Ultimate Fighting but with more clotheslining. And each time someone took the field, we’d play the Mortal Kombat soundtrack.