Softball Widow
So, if you don’t know my gal, Karla, she is a tough German woman who is rugged and sassy. She also is a huge softball player. She played in high school, and on various church and company teams. This season she is playing first base for Westwind’s team.
I do not play softball, however. It is not that I can’t. In fact, I love playing softball. It is that I can’t keep my mouth shut to the umpire. And, since Westwind is still trying to get off the ground, I feel it really matters if the pastor of the new church in town is bumping bellies with the umpire in the co-ed rec league. So, I sit in the stands, and speak out my dissatisfaction to the bad calls from there.
As I sit in the bleachers I am always joined by young wives or girlfriends of members of both teams. Other husbands/boyfriends seem to either 1) be on the team or 2) have something better to do. So, I am the only male in the stands. This can be awkward as conversions turn toward sales at Kohls or when a new mom decides that they should start nursing their kid between innings. For the most part I keep my eyes and mind forward to the game, cheering on my gal, or chastising the ump.
There is a sense of sacrificed masculinity as I think about what I do on those Tuesday nights. What would Marlboro Man or Don Draper think about my role as a softball widow? I even bring the drink cooler for after the game like some supportive mom. Is there a payoff to such behavior? Oh, the things a man will do to see his wife in tight baseball pants.
You are incredible!