There is nothing better then playing on a perfect ball diamond, the sun warm on your shoulders, the red dirt perfectly lined with lime and the mountains twinkling in the background.
Today, I played on a diamond that is pure. Absolutely flawless. If you are a ball player you will understand the beauty that exists on such a day. Sure, I was hungover slightly from the 4 caramel apple martinis I had the night before (I’m a light-weight), but I wasn’t hungover enough to ignore this day.
I played 3rd base. My shoulder felt loose, my muscles limber. I play in a co-ed league…it provides more of a challenge for me. When you get a 250 pound guy up to the bat, eying you as a weakness on the field because of your gender, there is an adrenaline that gets pumped through your veins. Your heart is in your throat. I DARE you to hit the ball to me. I DARE you to test my strength. I DARE you…
He smacks the ball to you, hits it hard enough that the bat gets dented…I blink. I’m on the ground, covered in dirt head to toe and my glove-hand is stinging from the pain. I’m on my feet and fire the ball to first using the momentum of my throw. I swallowed dirt and cut up my elbow in the meantime but DAMN it was worth it.
You see, my friends, on this beautiful Whistler, BC day I challenged someone twice my weight and won. I broke stereotypes. I tested. I won. For that second, I changed the way the spectators and players think about 125 pound blonde haired, blue-eyed playing 3rd base.
Fucking right.
I leave the diamond feeling empowered. In my opinion, a diamond is called a diamond for a reason. Each diamond is different and one of a kind. It has the power to make promises and break hearts. It is my heaven.
It is a reminder of my strength when I feel the most weakest in my life. Damn did I need that.
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