Big ol' Bucket o' Suck

So, it turns out when you don't play softball for six years, you tend to revert muscle-memory-wise back to your pre-softball, baseball hitting ways, and your idiotic self, though it sees the looping ball arcing and coming to the plate at 32 mph, is all tuned up for a 90 mph fastball and despite telling yourself to wait wait wait wait wait wait wait wait, you swing early again and again and again and again anyways, and you strike out three times* and feebly ground out** the last time and you generally let everybody down and you feel like a big ol' chump and you wanna die.***,****, *****

* - of course, this was one of those start with a 1-1 count, a foul ball with 2 strikes means your out leagues, so a miss, a foul tip, and four consecutive misses added up to those three Ks.

** - though let's be honest, you did actually beat that out and the ump all but admitted he called you out because he wanted to go home and it was 16-1 at the time.

*** - not really, but I felt the need to end this like a Morrissey rant, because I am human and I need to be loved, just like everyone else does.

**** - and the team lost both games by a gob of runs, so it wasn't like you were the single-handed downfall or anything; still, those first two Ks came with runners on and two outs in tight game, so if clutch existed, you certainly were not very that.

***** - and then you remember hey, my presentation actually went really well this morning, and I did play out of my head at Ultimate a scant 25 hours ago, so all is not lost. And the battle / that we're in / rages on / 'til the end.