Woman on Top

It's lonely at the top. Especially when you're a woman. I know you're probably thinking, "Violet, you barely have a job! How can you possibly be in charge of something?" But I am in charge. I am in charge of my Thursday night, rec-league slow-pitch softball team. Don't scoff. It's a stressful job. And one that I am VERY qualified for. My softball resume is pretty impressive. I've been playing this game for almost (ALMOST) 20 years. I've been playing softball longer than I've been doing anything else. Except breathing and walking. And eating. And going to the bathroom, but you get the point. I know what I'm doing.

Unfortuantely, my lack of a penis makes people think otherwise.

My team is pretty good. We win a lot, anyway. The cute neighbor plays on our team. I had actually asked him to play right before we started dating when Duke Logan moved away, and to my relief, he's good. He's the most solid shortstop we have, and for those of you new to the sport, shortstop is a key position. If you don't have a good shortstop in slow-pitch softball, you're not going to win much.

Last night, we had 11 people show up for our game. 3 of us were (and still are) women, so according to the co-ed rules, we could only play 9 at a time, and all 3 women had to be on the field at all times. Our normal pitcher wasn't there, so we had to go with The Back-up. The Back-up is, I'm sure, good at many things. Softball isn't one of them. He used to play shortstop, and as a direct result, we really never won. He has no arm to speak of, and never, EVER has any idea what to do with the ball when he gets it. Even when I specifically tell him, "Play's at second", he immediately goes to first, without ever thinking about it. Occasionally, he hits the ball, but not too often.

The game started with two guys on the bench. They seemed to be ok with that. The Back-up got off to an ok start, but then he started walking people. A lot of people. He walked the bases loaded. Then he walked a run home. I yelled for Baldo to start warming up. The Back-up actually said to me, "I know their strategy. They're not swinging. It took every ounce of self-control not to roll my eyes. "Throw strikes then. They'll swing." We got out of the inning, thanks to a lucky double play (turned by the cute neighbor), but the damage was done. I told The Back-up I was putting Baldo in the next inning. He was pissed.

Of course, because of the numbers, I had to sit several players. I did my best to make it an even rotation and get everybody in, but that didn't stop them from bitching and moaning about it. I was fair; I sat everyone, with two exceptions. One was the cute neighbor. He played because he's the only one who can play shortstop that well at all. He was also 3-4 at the plate. The second was our best hitter, who is crap in the field, but can hit the ball a mile, and I couldn't afford to take his bat out of the lineup. This however, means one thing: at after-game drinks (which I didn't attend) the conversation probably went like this: "Who put fucking Violet in charge of the lineup? Notice how the cute neighbor never sat out? Maybe if I start boning Vi, I won't have to sit out either." Yeah, I'm pretty sure it went something like that.

After I got home, I started to get pissed. It occured to me that if I were a man, no one would have complained. They wouldn't have questioned my decisions. When our normal pitcher was in charge of the lineup, people rotated in and out, and no one questioned it. It's good to know my boobs directly affect my ability to run a rec-league softball team.

Next week, I'm sending out a team email before our game. It's going to go something like this.

Team,

As you all know, we have more people on our team than there are positions on the field. Therefore, not everyone can play at the same time. Those sitting out an inning or two will be men, as that is what the rules dictate. No amount of whining or complaining is going to change that. Everyone will play, everyone will sit, that's just the way it is. If you want to ensure you get to play all the time, I recommend an ungodly dose of hormones and a really good razor. Or grow a pair and take it like a man.

Ok, it won't be as harsh, but that's the idea.