My grade six t-ball team almost broke a nun's nose

As previously discussed on this blog sporty things aren't my forte, but I participate if I have to. Just not very well and not with a lot of "skills". Unless running like an asthmatic tortoise or getting hit in the head with a basketball are good things, in which case I am a legend. In Grade 6 we were given a choice of team sport to play for the year and because four square wasn't on the list (those recess and lunch time games were brutal), t-ball appeared to be the best of the bunch.

One aspect of t-ball I did enjoy was the fact that the ball just sat in front of you. No one was pitching it at you, full speed, hoping to clock you in the face. You could take your time, savour the moment, and hit the stand repeatedly before you eventually made contact with your intended target. This was one of my aforementioned "skills". My other "skill" was panicking when the ball flew my way during fielding. One game I just stood there like a statue with my arms raised above my head, eyes squeezed shut... and I caught the ball. SKILLS, YO.

As you can imagine, our team consisted of a scrappy bunch of 11-year-olds (and a couple of awesome kids who could actually play). A little bit Sandlot, a little bit Mighty Ducks and a little bit this:

Despite all this, though, we went on to win every single game. And we all got trophies (something I could proudly display next to my collection of 'well done participator!' & 'the main thing is you tried' ribbons). Our most memorable 'win', however (and I use the term loosely because it was by default), came via one of my teammates who we'll call 'The Chucker'. Now, The Chucker had a lot of enthusiasm and a kind heart, but they also had a horrible tendency to catapult their bat into outer space once they'd hit the ball. I'm pretty sure that's how Pluto got knocked out of the planetary line up. Each match our coach reminded The Chucker to just gently drop the bat to the ground, but every time without fail The Chucker would fling the bat over their shoulder like it was made out of spiders. We were prepared for these sorts of incidents. Our opposing teams were not. Especially one unsuspecting teacher who also happened to be a nun.

During this particular match things were going along nicely until The Chucker stepped up to the plate. We all held our breath as they took a few practice swings, hoping today would be the day they'd heed the coach's advice. Unfortunately The Chucker was having nun of that.

As soon as the ball left the stand, The Chucker let the bat go sailing through the air - right into the nun's face. You could almost hear the needle scratch sound effect as everyone on the oval just fell into stunned silence while blood began to stream out of the poor woman's nose. As some of the grown-ups rushed over to her, our team migrated towards each other in pure mortification, not knowing what the protocol was when you accidentally injured a nun during a sports match. So we all just decided to take a knee and turn the other way out of respect... which in hindsight may have looked as though we were praying for our souls. The game was pretty swiftly called off after that, and the nun was taken to the hospital while we sheepishly headed back to school & wondered how we were going to break the news to everyone at assembly. I'd like to say that The Chucker learnt their lesson that day and became The Delicately Put-It-Downer instead, but I'm pretty sure they kept up their dangerous tradition. This is why four square should always be included in the PE curriculum.

And because I can't help myself, here's pun for the road...

It's a hard job but some pun's gotta do it