Post-graduate Intramurals

I was told by a former student that the University of Virginia was ranked the "most active university" in America. I often wonder how these rankings are calculated, as the process seems a bit arbitrary. I would like to note that John Carroll University holds a ranking of similar prestige: it is the number one binge drinking Jesuit school in the nation. I decided to research these rankings the most reliable way, Wikipedia. Indeed, "In 2005, the University was named "Hottest for Fitness" by Newsweek magazine, due in part to 94% of its students using one of the four indoor athletics facilities." There you have it; what Wikipedia states cannot be denied.

Facts and rankings aside, I have discovered the wonders of Charlottesville sports, what I consider the equivalent of intramurals for professionals. My immersion began with softball, on a day when the RKG team was a woman short. After committing to play, I realized that not only did I have no glove, I had never thrown a softball in my life. I know what you are thinking. Anna, you are an athlete; I see you walking toward me and sometimes cower from sheer intimidation. True, I may have the thighs of a collegiate middle linebacker and a list of weight room stalkers who could attest to my work out habits; however, my hand eye coordination has yet to be tested.

I arrived at the field, and being my first game, I was relegated to catcher, where all you have to do is lob the ball back to the pitcher; even if a play at the plate should occur, the male pitcher will cover. While catching is not an integral part of slow pitch softball, I would argue that you are involved more than most. I think I played my roll well; I even yelled, "balls in, coming down." Of course, there were no balls in the field at this point, but I have always wanted to say that. I made conversation with the batters, and at one point, our pitcher asked me if I was going to get the umpires number- yes, he was sixty years old, but something about old men just makes me want to talk.

Perhaps defense is not my forte; my Manny Ramirez-esque career would have to manifest itself at the plate. I grabbed the aluminum bat, assuming that I could step to the plate, harken the intimate knowledge of hitting I had gathered from years of listening to my father yell at his little league team, and hit a homerun. If there is one aspect of baseball I understand, it is rotating the hips. The pitcher wound his arm and the ball floated toward the plate; I believe I was a bit overzealous and did not wait for my pitch- although I am not quite sure what my pitch is. I did make contact; however, the ball barely dribbled to second base, and it was an easy out. The next at-bat, I made solid contact, but the shot went directly to the pitcher. Now I can sympathize with my brother who seems to hit the ball well, but to someone. Why are the fielders out there, anyways?

Clearly, the aluminum was not working; it was time to mix it up. Not realizing the physics that go into manufacturing bats, I picked up a wood bat, thinking that it could be my charm. This was met by an outcry of protest from my bench: "Anna, you do not have to use the wooden bat, you're a girl." Well, I was about to prove the sexism of slow pitch softball wrong; my co-workers had yet to see the capability of these thighs. I took a deep breath, reminding myself to keep my eyes open as the ball crossed the plate, turned on it, and swung. Indeed, the ball dropped into short center field, and I arrived safely at first base.

This was both the beginning and end of my illustrious intramural slow pitch softball career, at least for now. Perhaps feeling the pressure of sexist stigmas, I reverted to the aluminum bat; I ended the two game season 1-6, a .176 batting average. Solace can be found in the fact that even the best hitters in the major leagues only convert 30% of the time; in this light, I am comparable. Further, it is safe to say I was the first girl to record a hit with a wooden bat on a Wednesday night when the temperature was between fifty and sixty degrees and there were sixteen clouds in the sky. Yes, like all athletes, I am in possession of a record.

My next athletic endeavor was flag football. Now, I can throw a football; in fact, I can throw a football pretty well, with a beautiful sideways spiral. Unfortunately, since the ball only goes ten feet, I am of no use at quarterback. Defensively, I have one major problem- the flag. Yes, I can catch someone; I can even beat them in a foot race. However, pulling the flag is a different story. I will blame this on my eyesight that is less than crisp, therefore, inhibiting a clear vision of that yellow flag whipping in the wind. Obviously, I could remedy this through contacts or glasses, but here lies another problem. I failed to reorder contacts three months ago, and have yet to muster the will to pay sixty dollars for sight. Glasses are a logical alternative, but since I currently have a zit the size of a small mountain where the bridge lies, I would like to avoid any potential build up of sweat. So my laziness, cheapness, and vanity all put me in a position where I am grabbing like a pathetic puppy jumping for cheese, napkins, or any such table scraps; inevitably, I fall to the ground as my opponent sprints away gracefully. I then find myself chatting with the ref about the injustices of the college football bowl system as slants and routes are run around me. At the end of the game, I became distracted discussing Ohio State football and missed our team's love and happiness cheer. I really like love and happiness, too, and what if I just missed my opportunity to attain it?

My favorite aspect of sports is one can always derive a lesson, and I do believe intramural sports taught me a bit more about myself. When someone is less than two feet away from me, I feel compelled to engage in conversation, no matter the circumstance. This is why my best success comes in a sport where the opponent is barely within shouting distance. I think I will stick to tennis with the elderly. Plus, there are plenty of men over sixty I can talk to after the match.