Bad News Bear

Anyone who has met me knows that I am not the most coordinated person. Sports and me are not in a relationship at any point in time. It's not that I'm simply clumsy. It's more complicated than that.

Firstly, I was a trauma birth. I was born with the umbilical cord wrapped tightly around my neck and I was not a pretty color. This in 1968 so I was sent home with a "She'll be fine."
So, I am sure there were/are some long term issues created there.

I am visually impaired. I have had glasses since I was 18 months old and have had two surgeries. I had bifocals when I was 30 years old. I will eventually go blind in one eye.

My hearing is not great as well. Chronic ear infections as a child created scar tissue. Loud activities as an adult has not so much helped the issue.

So, let's recap: bad vision, bad hearing and motor skill issues. Okay.

With that, it is with surprise that my parents thought it would be a good idea for me to play in Little League Baseball.
*awesome idea*

I'm sure I must have wanted to but Really? Did they think this was a good idea? Because on the surface, this doesn't seem like a good idea for my self-esteem.

It wasn't.

Oh, I sucked. I sucked A. LOT. Succcckkkkeeedddd. Sucked to the nth degree.

But it's okay because my parents were there encouraging me, right? Right?
Um, no.

And the other players were supportive because I was the only girl on the team(s) right?
Again, not really no. (1979...Title Nine was a story book chapter title at that point)

I also have to mention that I'm left handed. My dad thought it would be "easier" for me to be right handed so refused to let me use my left hand. (hello, continual motor skills issues, nice to meet you)

And we were poor. So I had a second hand mitt...not so much a big deal but it was a
RIGHT HANDED CATCHERS MITT.

Somewhere, in some universe, my parents equally decided that a vision & hearing impaired child with motor skills issues would be perfect for baseball. Then to make the endeavor more interesting, lets give her the wrong handed glove and the wrong styled glove.

I picture them sending me off to the game, waving "Bye! Good luck with that!"

To my credit, I persevered. Persevered from the way, way, out outfield. Using one hand to catch then dropping the mitt and "throwing" with the left hand. I was a crappy hitter because well, let's see...oh wait, get it? "See"? I couldn't effing SEE the ball.

Can't catch, can't throw, can't bat. What do I do? I was one hell of a benchwarmer.

(it's okay to laugh...I do, now)