Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Embarrassment (01/12/12)
- TITLE: Spritzers
By Judy Sauer
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Being of short stature, some say I’m vertically challenged. I like my friend’s description better: “Dolls don’t grow.” Placed near the end of the batting order, my name is yelled to go bat. Expectations of me doing anything besides ”Three strikes and you’re out!” does not enter anyone’s mind.
The pitcher winds up and lobs the ball. It takes a high lofty ride as it zeroes in on home plate. With everything I have, my entire body contorts like a twisted donut. I swing the bat and there’s a noise. The steel bat clinks as the ball makes direct contact at the bat’s sweet spot. The large white orb sails over the Second Base player’s head. I run as fast as my little legs allow and safely make my way, huffing and puffy, to first base.
There are two things I hear; clapping, and ”Wow! You got a base hit!” from my husband. This hit surprises me as much as my own team plus our opponents. Happening one time, is a fluke, but twice, definitely not expected. Sure enough, I strike out my next few times at bat.
We begin the last inning and I start up the batting order. Beyond reasonable doubts, I repeat the herculean feat and smack the ball. It soars over the Second base player’s head, again – well out of his reach. The ball drops like a lead balloon. It doesn’t roll much giving me ample time to safely reach first base with full air still in my lungs. Sheer joy, elation, and disbelief … who knew what I could do? Not I.
One week a player’s wife was a no-show. Her sister, who came only to cheer the team on to victory, begrudgingly fills the gap after much persuasion. She has never touched a softball before so I am asked to sacrifice my coveted right field safe haven. “Okay, but don’t put me where the ball comes flying at me.”
My hubby tells the team captain to put me in short center field, and that he will cover behind me. This ensures we not miss any good plays. The captain agrees. I am not wild about this decision because the ball goes to that spot – a lot – definitely far more than my comfort level tolerates. We soon discover I was not born to play short center field.
The batter creams the ball hard and it takes aim on me like a homing pigeon. At least I stop it from rolling – that is the only good part of this play. I scoop up the scuffed white softball, get into my best throw-ready position and hurl it hard. Only there is one huge problem. Everyone sees it happen yet there is nothing I can do to stop my momentum. My left foot pivots on the soft grass. By the time I release it, the ball blasts off like a missile taking aim at the ball field opposite of ours. Everyone yells “FORE!”
Red-faced mortification is an understatement for how I feel. My wobbly legs fall to the ground because I’m laughing so hard. Then it happens; I spritz in my britches. This only makes my most embarrassing moment more humiliating. “Oh Jesus, have mercy on me. Have this ground swallow me up whole,” I plead. The one time I actually throw the ball strong it launches like a projectile at another team’s game.
My husband rushes over but can’t tell if I am laughing or crying. Actually I am doing both – then I spritz a few more times into my britches. “Take me now Jesus. I can’t get up, and there are no bathrooms nearby.”
Twenty years later I still buckle over in laughter as I relive my humiliation – only I’ve since learned how to not spritz on myself. I make a mad dash for the bathroom.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.