When: Spring 1976.
Where: Stephen F. Austin Elementary School - Playground.
Who: Mrs. Dollar’s class vs. Mrs. Martin’s class.
What: Kickball!
Larson on the mound. Hopes at the plate.
It was over in a minute. Larson barely had a chance to look up to see the red speck growing larger to cover his entire face and knocking him over backward.
The memory that Hopes was bigger in third grade than I am now may be a bit of an exaggeration, but the fact that I flinch every time a ball comes my way, originated in that moment. As my kickball team has gone through a variety of practices, almost everyone on the team has recounted some kind of kickball horror memory. If the memory did not come from kickball, it came from some other sport.
Yet, here we are, playing on a kickball team as adults. Speaking for myself, I’m having a wonderful time at the games and look forward to our practices and game times each week. Deep inside, I am overcoming the horrors of the childhood playground and redeeming myself (because, honestly, I many not yet be the world’s best athlete, but I am in better shape than I ever was as a teenager) athletically.
Come on Friday! Bring it!
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