Deathball 2K5
I recently joined my church's softball team because I have a childhood Redemption Issue and remain on the team, because apparently, I am brazenly stupid in regards to my own safety. We had our first game this past week and I think the swelling and bruising won't allow the hellish nightmare to pass into the region of the brain that holds fond memories. I would like public record to show in the event of my demise while participating in Deathball (my name for this sport) that I believe that the word "softball" is a complete misnomer for this hour-long, testosterone-induced cacophony of controlled violence that I participate in every Monday night. I think of the word "softball" and it conjures images of a recreational activity played by those lacking the skill and ability required to play a physically demanding sport, such as baseball. In my feeble mind, it is an activity limited to picnics and family reunions, suitable for all ages, and is played with a ball which is, well, soft. It's in this transgressive thinking that I forgot that fully-grown males possess the ability to make even a game of badminton a physically painful act. This reasoning extends naturally to Deathball and my five games in organized baseball as a youth and the occasional pickup game of softball as an adult haven't prepared me for the rigors of The Big Round Death. I lack something our coach reminds us to play every week: "fundamentals".

Fundamentals apparently teach you things like how to keep your head down during a night game. I didn't possess this particular knowledge during our first game and happened to look over third base and directly into the lights just seconds before my shortstop rocketed a routine throw to me. In that moment of self preservation, I threw both hands out in front of me. The result was me picking the index finger of my throwing hand up off the ground just in time to watch the blood vessel inside explode and blossom in vibrant colors of blues and purples.

Playing good fundamental baseball prevents errors, both on and off the field. I've discovered that my grossest errors have taken place long before I ever stepped on the field. I believed that because most of the players are a little out of shape, that their skills would be equally negligent. I forgot that adult male softball players have played baseball half their lives and softball the other half of their lives. They know how to hit, field, and run bases. I'm a poseur. Even the most unimposing over-fifty softball player can pull a ball down the firstbase line and allow me just enough time to get my beloved shins out of the way. They're kinda mean that way, but I'd hit to me if I were them too.

I also naively believed that these men play Deathball for the fun and camaraderie of the sport. Again, that's just crazy talk, because I've had guys who have wanted to kick my ass in a bar fight who haven't stared me down as hard. I had to keep reminding myself that this was a non-contact sport. I think I actually saw some members of their team trying to urinate on the bases to mark their territory.
Fundamentals extend even to the equipment that you use. I never seriously considered the difference between a fielder's glove and a first baseman's mitt. Hold your hand up like you're going to wave to someone. Notice how your fingers extend up into the air? That's how your hand sits in a fielder's glove. Playing first base with a fielder's glove is the same as playing bare-handed when a 19 year-old throws a ball from third base at 70 miles per hour. Firstbase and catchers play with a mitt. Now mimic holding a cup and that's how your hand is positioned inside of a mitt. Your hand sits lower in a mitt and you won't feel the knuckle in your index finger shatter when you catch the softball thrown from the aforementioned third baseman.

Deathball has been a very educational experience for all of the bruising and torn muscles. I've learned more about the nuances of this game in three weeks than I've learned over a lifetime. I like the sport so much now that I now watch baseball! I think that's one of the signs that Jesus should return sometime soon, or at least that Hell has officially frozen over.