2 - 4 - 6 - 8 Albany A's are Super Great

Tuesday was the first "Albany Angels" softball experience...and I must say we performed far better than I ever expected. We only lost 12 - 2, and that's because they called the game in the forth inning. Had the officials allowed us proper time to warm up I'm sure we would have given "South Decatur" a run for their money. I can, at least, confirm that our team scored far more points in the snappy uniform department. We all had matching skorts! (The girls, anyway.)

In case you're unfamiliar, Albany is the beautiful historic district in Decatur in which we live. Every Friday we meet at the home of our Patron Saint of Albany, Margret Ann Templeton, for "8th Ave. Culture Club." This is a tradition that has been alive for 20 plus years and Margret Ann happens to be our across the street neighbor. At one of our regular "Culture Club" sessions the idea of a neighborhood girls softball team was thrown on the table. We, of course, in all our gin-soaked glory, thought it was the greatest idea and immediately agreed to play. The fact that we'd actually have to play softball never occurred to us...we just thought we'd get to buy a pink glove and platform cleats and that would be the end of it.

The following day much of our roster began back-peddling with excuses of work commitments, family obligations and manicure horror stories. Many of the previous night's most enthusiastic signers were one-by-one raining on our estrogen parade. If Albany was to have a team at all (read: if we were going to get to buy pink gloves and platform cleats) we would have to withdraw our "pink skorts only" rule and recruit our husbands, brothers and cubicle mates. We would have to go co-ed.

And so began what will surely prove to be the most stressful four weeks of our husbands', brothers', etc's lives.

Naturally, I immediately volunteered Carl to coach. I figured he didn't have enough on his plate with intense casework, attending classes to earn his legal masters in tax law and studying for tests and exams. Surely the only thing lacking in his already over-packed 24 hour days were holding tutorials on the fundamentals of softball and recruiting enough decent players so he would never actually have to put us on the field.

So Tuesday arrived and the original "Angels" took their designated places on the dugout's bench. We led a few cheers, heckled the other team, snapped a photo or two and discussed the best place to get your eyebrows waxed. All the normal chit-chat one would expect from a serious sports team. Then something unexpected happened, something we weren't prepared for. Carl actually put us in. I hadn't even bought my glove yet. All the pink ones were on back order.

Now, I'm not one to brag but I'm about to...

Of the two points we scored I contributed in great part to one of them. Up at bat, I blindly swung at the first pitch and by some miracle made contact. The ball bounced between the pitcher and second baseman and again, by some miracle, I got to first base faster than my opposition could get the ball there. And while I was running to first, Carl was running from third to home plate. My hit successfully sent Carl home to score our team's second of two points. Shortly thereafter I was thrown out at second base and the game was over but I didn't care. I had earned my very own RBI.

Post-game we toasted with a celebratory beverage at Hard Dock Cafe, our team's sponsor. Everyone was excited, mostly that we had survived our first game with minor injuries but me about my awesome miracle play.

Our next game is Thursday and based on how well we did in Game One, I predict we get to play at least five innings. I guess this means I need to take my name off the wait list and buy a glove, gasp, off-the-rack.