Whose on First

When I run with my roommate she tells me I am active but not athletic. This isn't the stab it would appear to an outside observer but her way of telling me I have some level of talent. I have gone my whole life not being athletic. Athleticism is society's golden child. In elementary school the fastest boy gets all the girls, in middle school the football player hands off his letter jacket to a wispy blond, and in high school colleges offer the athletes thousands of dollars to play for them. It makes sense that athletic ability would affect self -worth, it isn't currently a contingency of self -worth according to a study by Ohio State University the contingencies are familial support, competition, appearance, God's love, academic competition, virtue and morals, and approval from others.
I spent a good part of high school playing the part of the athlete. I wasn't cool enough to play soccer and didn't grow up with basketball so I decided to try softball. They were the underdog sports team so I felt no pressure entering the fold late. I bought my first softball glove when I was 16 and caught my first pop fly later that day. I played on the JV team and was the third worse. It is easy to tell in softball who is the best because it is literally written in list format called batting order. In the higher up ball games batting order is more strategic but at our level it was this is how good you are. Look see, it calls to us, you are actually the worst. I was to my relief only the third worst. I never once made contact with the ball when up to bat but once the ball hit me so I got on base. That is how I passed the two girls below me, they didn't have the good fortune of possessing a large surface area for the ball to bang against. It seemed poor compensation for continually towering over the boys in my grade but it was something.
I was fine that my team was quite honestly pathetic, winning one game a season didn't bother me, in fact I found it charming how much effort we kept putting in. Team underdog was okay but self underdog was not. I didn't feel adorable when I swung and missed and missed and missed. I felt large and gawky when at the plate.  My mom came to one game she brought my grandma. They sat in navy blue collapsible chairs and gossiped throughout the entire game pausing briefly to watch me strike out. I would practice on the weekend. My friend who tried out for the team with me (she played capture on varsity and I promised her I wasn't bitter) would play imaginary games with me. We would laugh as we we tried to remember which figment occupied which base as we batted for them. I played for the JV softball team three years. I had the heart and the effort but those things must be more alluring from the outside.