Last night my kickball team played our last playoff game. We lost to the away team: Kickball 3.0 in the semi-final round of the playoffs.
In last week's playoff game I noticed the attitude on the field became more serious and intense than I recall experiencing before. a few high and long kicks made it out to right field and I missed the catch a few times. So I opted to sit out a few innings and let someone a little more skilled at catching take my spot before the other team figured out I couldn't catch and started pounding the kickball my direction.
The pressure of performance got into my head. Not a lot but enough to make me doubt myself and not want to be the one to let the team down.
So this week I defaulted to the same. I only played the outfield the first inning and and then kicked when I was up in the rotation.
My first up, I pretended I was going to kick the ball hard down the center of the field. but instead at the last second punted. This trick has worked well for me in the past, especially against lesser experienced teams that didn't know how to respond to a punt. I't's usually been a guaranteed run to first for me. But not this time.
Instead it was picked up and thrown me within a fraction of a second. I had only run three steps and i felt the ball bounce off of my mid back with that familiar hollow BLOINK! sound it makes when it makes contact with a runner. Usually I'm happy to hear this sound because all this season it has been our team tagging people out, but instead it was me being tagged out.
There I was, running to first while my team mates cheered me on from only a few feet away from the line as I ran by. The adrenaline pumping, the wind blowing my hair and before I knew it BLOINK! I had been tagged out mid run. Right there only a few feet away of my team mates. I swore my usual swear word aloud and walked back to my group feeling more pressure than ever. Now I didn't dare try to play outfield I already was an easy out for the other team and i didn't want to let my team down. I thought the best i could do was take my self out of the picture and be replaced by someone more skilled.
The other team was in my head. Fear of losing was in my head. Desire not to be the worst Kickballer ever ...was in my head. I've realized recently that this is what I do, I feel pressure, get scared ...and do nothing. I stop. This has not worked well for me at all.
While watching with our team manager/scorekeeper from the sidelines I noticed something. even our best players were dropping balls they were catching and missing catches completely.and every time this happened the other team seemed to bring more and more people home.
I could see the stress on my team mates faces, what was once fun and more about drinking beer and telling stories than about the game itself; had within two games become intense and stressful. The other team hadn't just gotten into our heads, but the desire to simply not lose was weighing on us with ever increasing pressure. I could see the concentration in the eyes of our pitcher every time he threw. At the bottom of the 4th inning, the girl whom I follow after in the kicking rotation got tagged as the third out during her run to first base. I knew what was coming next, I was the first kicker in the fifth and final inning (because kickball only has five innings).
The top of the fifth inning went quickly. I sat there knowing I was on the spot. Most times when I kick the ball hard, it either goes straight into the hands of the pitcher directly in front of me, or it ends up becoming a pop fly in the out field.
I watched my team mates with unease in my stomach. I wondered to myself if I could exchange my place in the kicking rotation for one of our sure shot power kickers. However according to WAKA regulations any modifications to the kicking rotation have to be done before the start of the game. I was going to be next and backing out wasn't an option.
I've made some runs this season so I know that i'm not the most worthless kicker ever but I knew I didn't want to disappoint. The top of the fifth inning was over quickly. I don't know if my team mates had resigned to losing and had given up, which had in turn taken the pressure off allowing them to actually preform. but for the first time this game balls being kicked were caught without dropping them and runners were tagged out quickly.
This was the shortest inning of the game. At three outs my team ran back to the sidelines and I walked up to bat. I knew what I had to do. I had to switch it up and kick it hard. I knew if I punted they would: a.) be expecting it. b.) even If they weren't expecting a punt it would probably be a repeat of my last at bat. Over quickly. This catcher knew how to respond to punters.
But if I kicked they might not be expecting it, but even if they were i had a better chance at getting on base than a punt at this point.
So again, I got down and looked like I was going to kick it hard the same way I had looked before.
The pitcher rolled it fast but too far to the left, I could see that it was going to bee a ball and not a strike long before it even came to me. I didn't move a muscle. I just looked past him for a good spot to kick. Somewhere in the outfield where players seemed sparse and less likely to catch a ball mid-air.
The pitcher rolled the ball again only this time to far to the right knocking over the cone on the right corner of the batting box. I still didn't move a muscle. "Ball two," shouted the referee. I could feel the butterflies in the pit of my stomach, and not the good kind. The catcher behind me stirred and muttered something under his breath, he was close behind me, they were expecting me to punt. The butterflies increased their fluttering.
The pitcher rolled the ball again. about halfway to home base I could see that the ball was veering to the right, but not enough to be a ball. I was not going to be walking to first base.
I ran a step towards the ball and kicked as hard as i could over the head of the short stop and out into right field. My team mates yelled run as I sprinted as fast as I could to first. Almost there I saw the outfielders still just picking up the ball too far away to make a single throw for second. I rounded first to the sound of the base coach shouting "run for second!" So I ran for second and made it just before the ball came to the second baseman. I made it on base, and to second no less. at least I wasn't a total disappointment.
Tommy came next and kicked a foul immediately, but kicked his next ball into the right field. The third base coach was screaming run for home as i launched myself off of second base and into a full sprint. I rounded third and ran for home as fast as I could, crossing home plate only a moment before the ball slammed into the hands of the catcher.
Im not sure if Tommy had gotten tagged out or not, I just know that not only had I taken the chance and attempted to perform at a higher level (even if for only one kick) But that my effort had paid off and I had brought it home. The next up to kick from our team didn't make it past first before getting tagged out. I was my teams last run kicked in of the season.
For those who have participated in team sports you might be familiar with what I call the g-game line at the end of every game. It's when both teams line up and walk past one another giving high fives and saying g-game to each other. This is the last thing both teams do before leaving the field to celebrate victories or lick wounds with a pep talk about "how good the season was" and "better luck next game." Both of these are a way of bringing closure to the game or for us, a summer of kickball.
Maria and I walked to my car after the game (and good byes to the team mates). We talked about how fun kickball had been all season, up until our playoff games, and how the playoffs had just gotten super intense. I made the comment that the stress had gotten to our team and that we were dropping balls and missing kicks we never would have missed in the regular reason. We had let the pressure get to us, me especially. The going got tough and I sat out, until I couldn't sit out without disappointing others. I was left with the options of risk dropping the ball one way or absolutely drop the ball another. and when I took up the ball I succeeded (at least enough to make me somewhat happy).
Sometimes I surprise myself. So this makes me ask myself the question what is it about pressure or expectation that makes me shut down when I'm perfectly capable of preforming.? and now I apply this game as metaphor to the rest of my life. I may not win at everything, but What would my life look like If I got in the game more often and kept playing instead of waiting by the sidelines hoping for the sure shot? I like doing well even if the outcome is different from my desired result. Knowing this, why do I allow myself to be scared or over whelmed by what might happen when I could just give it my best shot and find out. I would waste so much less time that way, not to mention grey hairs ;)
