And now for the random thoughts of an undisciplined mind.
I went through a bunch of years of school P.E. not knowing how to hit a softball. I thought I did an all right job of avoiding exposing my ignorance after fourth grade. In the line-up I'd just keep moving back and letting other kids take cuts. It worked pretty well.
In family games -- first bounce or fly was about all we ever did since we didn't have enough people for the real thing -- I was exposed but my brothers laughed at me whenever they got a chance anyway, so there wasn't much at stake.
It was only a few years ago, when I was past 40, that my brother Mike and couple other family members got together with me at a picnic and showed me how to hit. Just a few pointers, and I "got" it. I had always heard "Keep your eye on the ball," and it made no sense. Suddenly it DID make sense, and I hit some balls. Good solid hits, too.
I haven't repeated the experience; there haven't been any softball type picnics for some time, but I am content. I know that I'm not hopeless. I know that I can hit a softball if I want to. There's a lot of power in that.
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