My Kickball Career

Last night I played in maybe my fourth kickball game. As with the other three, our team didn't fare so well (although yesterday's loss was undoubtedly the most painful). The kickball I play is still the childhood pasttime, only that re-invented version more suited to D.C. young professionals. Playing underneath the U.S. Capitol as the sun sets on the tourists leaving the Smithsonian museums, I feel a sense of competition running through my veins. I don't really play on team sports anymore, and I forget my fierce competitive streak. More acurately, I pretend it doesn't exist. For some reason, I feel it goes against the laid-back demeanor I feel I exude. I guess I feel that if I am not competitive, don't take the sport or game too seriously, that it won't matter if I fail short. But what I am realizing is that even though game losses or even my mistakes on the field can be hard to gulp down, it's really exciting when the opposite happens. When things go your way--even if only for a moment. When success appears, as if it's been there all along, eluding you. This is on my mind now, because last night I felt my competitve edge satiated. Yes, we did lose, but for the first time, I made a big defensive move. Playing second base, the big bouncy ball came my way. After one bounce, I secured the ball in my hands. The first base runner was heading toward second. I chased after her, ball in hand. We made eye contact, and I knew I had to get her out. So I dodged the ball at her. I watched as it hit her and then bounced off. She was out. The inning was over. Between the two of us, I had won.