Second memory

[This was not posted last night because I went to see Ian Anderson play at the Warfield, which deserves its own post--not that it will necessarily get its own post. We have a schedule to keep, people!]

The winter of the year I was in second grade it became a fad to play kickball. Our school's blacktop playground was laid out with this game in mind, providing a large square, the corners of which served as bases. (Just in case kickball doesn't bring any organized sport to mind, the kickball we were playing was essentially baseball, except a) you kicked a large rubber ball instead of hitting a small string-and-leather ball with a stick, and b) you could put people out by throwing the ball and hitting them if they were not standing on a base.) We divided into teams, one in the field, one lined up to kick, and I somehow found my way into line.

It came to be my turn, and the "pitcher" rolled the ball to me. I think everyone there expected me to be an easy out, since I was one of the youngest, smallest players there. I rather thought so myself. But there I was, and here comes the ball...

I stepped forward and belted it, and it went up shockingly far and fast. I still can feel an echo of my astonishment as I watched it cross the leaden sky and be momentarily obscured by the pale sun. I realized that there was a fielder in position to catch it, but he looked more desperate than confident...and the ball struck him in the chest and bounced away.

Only at this point did I realize I ought to be running to first base. (I think there were people yelling at me to go for several seconds before I started running.)

I made it just in the nick of time, and there was an argument about whether or not I was safe which I was too diffident to participate in. In the end I was allowed to keep my base, and the game went on--I am fairly sure that in the end I didn't score. (I was still pretty fuzzy on the rules and might have been put out at second base, but that could have happened on another occasion.)

It was beginner's luck; after that first bold stroke and an even more successful second kick, for which I actually remembered to run, I was never much of a kickball success in second grade. That, I believe, is my first memory of the joys and perils of playing sports.