Kickin' it

If you’re young and half-way normal (even if you’re not), you most likely know someone on a kickball team. I’ve always thought of doing it but never took the plunge. Amy (of course) called me a couple of months ago asking if I wanted to be on a team. And so it began. I wont lie, the team is a little random and I basically know no one…but I saw serious potential for fun and an excuse to drink on a Thursday night (now when did I ever need an excuse?). There are a lot of things going on here. First of all, trying to learn the rules. The last time I played kickball was in my fourth grade science class. I mean…it’s like baseball, right? Only problem there is while I love going to baseball games…it’s only for the beer, dollar hotdogs, and the opportunity for a tan. I never actually WATCH the game. What the hell do I know about baseball? General rules of course but…whatever, I’ll figure it out.



Week number 1. Amy sends out an email. She needs volunteers to be head referee and line refs for each game. Ugh.

Long story short, some rando assigned to our team volunteered to be head ref (thank god). Unfortunately…no one volunteered to be line ref. So guess what Doak sisters were stuck in that sticky spot? I would like to take this opportunity to reiterate that the last time I played kickball was when I was like…10 years old and it was geared towards science so I'm pretty sure adult rules didn't apply. Clearly I didn’t know the rules. Some crazy man tried to explain the rules to us about three minutes before the game. Force out? What the heck is a force out? What constitutes a foul? How do you get someone out? Ugh. Amy looked like she was going to throw up and her nervous laughter started kicking in and I was like, “dude, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just a volunteer kickball league”. Oh. Hmm. Here is a situation that could happen:

Someone kicks a ball and it comes flying at you (duh, it’s a kickball game) and on instinct you lift up your leg to block it.

Whoops. Was that still in play? ……………..Needless to say, the team I helped get to first base was happy and the other team was…not. I had to sit the rest of the game listening to the team behind me talk sh*t. What did I do? Pretend it didn’t happen. I’m too cool for school. Duh.

Whoops….


*I feel it necessary to say that the man in the picture is not on our team. He is from Google. But I really wish he were on our team and my new best friend.