Which Reminds Me

During high school I was widely renowned in regular PE class for being able to hit home runs at softball. Some girls would tease me about this and there was even a song that certain people would sing to the tune of Davy Crockett: "Candi, Candi Calkins, Chiquita pero Matona." So I was good enough for regular PE class obviously. I don't remember which year, maybe 10th or 11th grade, myself and several other girls were invited to try out for the real girls' baseball team. We were all lined up to bat and somehow I was first in line. So I went up and struck out three times and I was out. Those were some hard-driving hardball serves that Kathy was pitching, nothing like the softball serves that we had come to expect at softball. So after I struck out every other girl that went up to bat didn't even try to hit the ball and just walked. And then later I never heard anything from Kathy about the results of that. I don't know what she said to other people about that. But whatever. It was just one chance at bat and no other training was offered. So, anyway, I really did not care enough about that to ask any question. There was really no shame in striking out at hardball when anyway I never cared that much about sports. Just because Kathy is a sports fanatic, that does not mean that I ever cared about sports very much. In fact, I find sports people rather dull company if truth be told. In fact, if I had suspected in the first place that the whole point of inviting me to bat a hardball was only to strike me out, I think that I would have declined the invitation in the first place and spared myself the agony of defeat because, really, who cares? I took the minimum PE requirements to graduate and nothing more is required.