Soccer came back. Hockey came back. Basketball came back. Baseball has limped backed into existence. Football is still figuring itself out, but I don’t have high hopes for the sport. But all that said, there’s one sport that bubbles up to the top for me.
Kickball is the best sport.
No, I’m not talking about surfing to ESPN The Ocho, though that would honestly be pretty dope. As a (sort of) full grown adult, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that kickball is the one sport I can still play. It can be competitive, give me a little workout, and make me feel as though I’m not a total shlub.
As COVID-19 ramped up its efforts to strike down America’s resolve, I was gearing up for my fourth consecutive season with my kickball pals (SMASHTOWN!). Like any good backyard-style game begins in the movies, we were a rag-tag group of humans looking to bring some pizazz into our weekends and pitchers of Bud Lights into our bellies.
The best part about playing kickball is that it helps a human like me, who is mildly athletic at best, round the bases and get the blood flowing.
But then the other best part… Yes, there can be two bests in this scenario! Anyway, the other best part is continuing the competitive nature after the game. How do you do that, you ask? By moseying on down to the league’s partnered pub and imbibing shitty beer while partaking in flip cup, beer pong, slap cup, or any other frat game your little heart desires.
If you don’t find yourself building up a sweat during your kickball game, you can be like me and dive across a table to try to get the behind the back shot before the ping pong ball hits the gross, beer stained floor of the pub basement.
Sure, sometimes I get a little over-competitive. Sometimes I yell at the other teams. Maybe I drink so many pitchers on my own that I feel the need to have a night on the town in the lower east side in my sweaty blue league t-shirt. But I miss the regularity. We all love routine, right?
I can’t wait until the day I can make a fool of myself again by swinging and missing on a pitch that approached me a little too fast, twisting my knee trying to field a bunt while playing catcher, or scraping my hands and knees while diving at a ball on turf and getting those little black rubber pellets embedded in my scrapes.
But mostly I can’t wait to play with my rag tag group of performers, wrestling fanatics, and randoms the team has pulled together over the years.