Put Me In, Coach

It's happened. I knew it would, eventually, but I didn't expect it would be today. And I didn't expect it would be the mailman.

I have been discovered.

Not whilst sipping a soda like Lana Turner at Schwab's, more like... oh the hubris of even making the comparison... ah what the hell. Like Honus Wagner (greatest shortstop ever for those of you who aren't baseball fans) throwing rocks across a trainyard. Signed on the spot he was. But in my case, it wasn't rocks, it was an actual baseball, and it wasn't a trainyard but instead the sidewalk in front of our house during my near-daily catches with Nathan.

You see... I have some mad baseball skillz that are readily apparent to anyone with eyes and a brain. Or at least to my mailman, who is recruiting more women for his postal service softball team. And damn it, that's good enough for me. When he said "Would you?" I of course said, "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" In retrospect, I think that scared him a bit, but I'm sure as he reflects on it he'll realize it was simple heartfelt enthusiam and love of the game.

I have dreams - oh, I have dreams. I'll certainly play shortstop, turn double-plays with ease, bat solidly near the middle of the lineup, and be carried off the field on the shoulders of my grateful teammates as I'm unanimously voted MVP after we win the leaugue championship. Pitchers will fear me. Batters will curse my fielding prowess. Players from other teams will try to woo me away (And other teams, if you're reading, let me nip that one in the bud. These people are postal workers. We don't want to piss them off, mmmkay?)

I hope we get uniforms. I'll wear high socks. High socks look SO cool.

The time is at hand. The world... erm... greater Seattle area is ready.

I will... I will rock you.