Friday night was fog. My head was pounding, splitting.
I was functioning at 30%. I had to pick up a rental car, pack my softball bag, prepare food to eat during the tournament, and… finish a pretty major project for my sister.
I’ve got some kind of sinus infection, or flu, or god-knows-what.
I dragged myself through obligations and crashed into my bed, indescribably exhausted. Incoherent, almost. I slept in small spurts inbetween fever sweats, horribly disturbing dreams, and panicked moment in which I was convinced I’d missed my alarm and was late for the tournament.
It was a sense of duty that got me out of bed this morning. Despite being almost next to tears with headache and throat pain, despite feeling demolished and in pieces.
It was this voice in my head saying, “You are number ten. There’s no team without you. That’s all there is. You have to be there. That’s it.”
It was a big feeling. A big, hard feeling this morning. I wanted to curl up forever… I wanted to take a double-dose of Nyquil and shut down the world. Instead, I willed myself to get out of bed, sobbed in front of the coffee maker, which I’d not had enough energy to set the night before, and pulled myself into a rental car by 6:50am so that I could drive to the tourney and be in time for BP at 7:30am, before our 8:30am game.
It was an act of sheer will.
As was the next 35 innings in which we didn’t win the tournament, but had an amazing time. I overcame my nerves, played the game I know how to play, and slowly worked my way up in the line up…
In game one I was playing first base. By game two I was in right field. By the time we’d hit game three he’d transitioned me into left-center, where I feel happy and confident. My little piece of heaven where I get to stretch my legs, steal the short balls and track the fatties. I was playing with one of the best left-fielders I’ve ever had the chance to play with and it was a thing of beauty. She and I pulled down the two all-star awards that the coach handed out at the end of the day.
I got lucky. My timing was on this time around. Hooking up with these ladies was a blessing and a big need in my life. It’s starting to begin to fill an enormous hole left by the absence of my bay area team, whom I’d become far more attached to than I had ever really realized.
These women love each other, they love the game, and they play it well. And they do it brazenly.
New prescription for intense sinus-related flu:
35 innings of softball in the sun, with Grade A ball-players who are also class-act people.
Give me 35cc of softball-lovin’ – STAT!