Kickball Anyone?

Remember that sappy song from the 70's, Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word? I believe they have it all wrong. It is very easy to say "sorry." I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I'm sorry you had a bad day. I'm sorry I broke your favorite vase. I'm sorry I wrecked your car. I'm sorry I drank the last diet coke. See? It is very easy. The hardest word to say is "NO!"

Why do I feel compelled to say "yes" when I am asked: Don't you want to be in charge of the marching band's yard sale? Do you want to join a kick ball league? Will you return those extra parts to Home Depot...or was it Lowe's? Can I have another video game for my computer? Do you want to go to the beach with the girls? Why don't we take a weight-lifting class at the Y?

What I really wanted to say to all of these questions was, "No! No I don't!" But what came out of my mouth was, "Well, okay." Fortunately, only a few of these have I grown to regret! The Lowe's/Home Depot dilemma I won't have trouble saying NO to next time.

Sunday morning, I was belittling myself for saying YES to kick ball. What the heck was I thinking? Wasn't the last time I played in 1973? Don't I remember being chosen last for basketball in the 7th grade? I know it is a different sport, but... And what if the other players are like the guys in that movie Dodgeball?

Hallelujah! All of my fears were wrong! Nobody else had played since they were in elementary school either. Unfortunately, most of them were in elementary school in the 90's. I introduced myself to the other players. All seemed welcoming. When I couldn't remember the rules, they clarified for me. Kickers came in boy/girl order. I stood back and let everyone else go first so I could study technique. When there were no more girls in front of me, one of the guys said, "Miss Anna hasn't kicked yet." From there, I was tagged Miss Anna.

I knuckle pounded the biggest guy on our team as I headed to my first kick. I whistled as we scored. I even ran across home plate once (even though somebody else got tagged out and my score didn't count.) I never had a ball kicked to or near me (Thank God!) so I didn't fumble the ball. I joked with the first baseman about getting out of my way so I wouldn't have to knock him down. This does not sound like the actions of a girl named Miss Anna.

Our team won the first game. I lost count on the second game. When someone said, "I'm thirsty. Let's head to the bar," the game ended, and there was no discussion about which team won. I guess everyone wins when it's Miller Time. (Do they still make that beer?)

I think I want to be on a team where everyone is 40 or older. We'll call ourselves the Menopausal Bitches! Anyone who calls me Miss Anna will get a spanking! I will be figuring out my strategy of ditching this sweet name that is meant to be respectful. Just treat me like one of the boys!