As a young girl, I very much remember staring with envy at my classmate's hair pinned up in curlers in preparation for dance recitals, or the growing collections of badges across pressed Girl Scouts' sashes. I wanted so badly to be a part of these activities with other little girls. But growing up as a girly-girl was simply not in my parents' plan for me. Instead I played ball. At age 5 or 6, I was the only girl in the league if I remember correctly. And in all the years since my Title IX moment, I've only missed two summers of softball.
While I may be a little older, and a little (okay, a lot) slower, the fundamental movements and competitive spirit of the game are just as fresh in my mind as they were even a decade ago.
It is because of this competitive spirit, that nothing - I repeat, nothing - makes me more irritated as when some guy waves in the outfielders when I (or any girl really) step up to the plate. Conversely, fewer things bring me more satisfaction as when I send the first pitch right over their heads and find myself easily settled on third base.
I am a girl. And I play ball like a girl....a girl that will slide, throw a laser, or tag your chauvinistic-ass out.
Here's to all the girls out there that aren't afraid to get some dirt under their nails.
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