I have slowly but surely been easing into my role with my primary sport of baseball. Understandably, the team is still learning about me and I think they are starting to see that I’m not new to baseball, nor am I just some chick hanging around the dugout although when I wear my team jacket, I resemble a girl wearing her boyfriend’s letterjacket/groupie, which isn’t quite what I’m going for. But with baby steps, I think we’re all learning. A classic example might be earlier this week when I said something under my breath about making the third out at third and what a cardinal sin that was and our freshman catcher heard me. “So, you know a little something about baseball, huh?” I told him this wasn’t my first rodeo.
I had my first batch of sunflower seeds today. I was trying to hold off as long as I could but ever since I have been going to practice on a regular basis and by regular basis I mean every day it has gotten harder and harder to resist stuffing my cheeks like a skrill (translation: squirrel).
Since I was trying to ease the team into the fact that I actually know baseball and all that it entails, I wasn’t planning on spitting seeds right out the gate for fear they would wonder who the hell this new girl was, spitting seeds in their dugout. I figured I would follow their lead since I’m in their domain. But after a week or two and only seeing them eat Gatorade power bar things, and not seeing any sunflower seeds being consumed, I was kinda nervous.
So when they busted them out today, I thought to myself, finally! But I still wanted to try and hold out on the raw tongue/cheek feeling for as long as I could since we have 55 scheduled games from next week until June.
Unfortunately, I have no will power.
I blame our right fielder, who had the bag of David’s sunflower seeds out first.
I looked at him, longing to throw some in my mouth, but trying to hold out, especially since I was in slacks and heels. There is nothing classier than a lady in heels, spitting seeds. Finally, I broke down and the following conversation ensued:
Me [deep sigh, acknowledging my weakness]: Drew, can you hook a sista up and spot me some of those?
Drew [pouring a few in my hand]: Do you know how to eat these?
Me [with a facial expression that illustrates just how ridiculous I think that question is]: Is the Pope Catholic?
Drew [laughing]: all right then.
I think it’s safe to say the guys are catching on.
When I saw “I’m like a bird” all I thought of was the song “I’m like a bird… I wanna fly away” by like Nelly Furtado or Michelle Branch or whomever. (That was the song our arena played constantly pre/post game at UD; as in “welcome old people who don’t like rap” when the team wasn’t on the floor. and “go home now” after the game. I hate that song).
So I’m glad your post was about fitting in with the guys and spitting like Gina Davis in A League of Their Own. And not a “I want to fly away.”