In an ambitious attempt to both acquire new friends and “shmooz” with high ranking members, I joined the company kickball league in 2010. Unfortunately, the world of facebook decided to either untag other folks’ photos of me from that era, or I mistakenly unfriended whoever posted those photos. My blog will have to survive without a sweaty, buck-toothed photo of me in a team jersey. I apologize to all this hurts. Let me assuage this grief with a Failblog representation of what likely occurred.
While mildly athletic (I said mildly), I still found it challenging because my chicken legs can kick neither far nor strategically. My kicks were short bunts or high-rising easy catches. For that reason the challenge of the games wasn’t physical but emotional. My lack of point-earning kicks drug me down, especially when there were already too few point-earning players on the team. I felt like additional deadweight, and every out I caused was another bummer to shrug off. However, I discovered strengths, too. It turned out I was a quick sprinter as well as a more-than-decent slider! This allowed me to earn points for the team from other players’ kicks. And, of course, there was my favorite strength: being a fearless (shameless?) karaoke fanatic!
That brings me to the second, and perhaps more important part of the corporate kickball experience: the post-game cocktail & karaoke hour. What I lacked in kicks I made up for in classic hip hop parodies and $3 pints. Nothing beats singing “Ring of Fire” with a VP 4x above your pay grade, even if that VP has a bedtime of 9 o’clock. Bar food is also an Achilles heel of mine: crab dip, fish and chips, tiny burgers, calamari, cheese fries, chicken tenders, nachos…. all smothered with honey mustard. I’m making myself ravenous just typing. A day of work ends best when I’m filming my tipsy colleagues rap “When I Dip, You Dip, We Dip”, munching appropriately selected dip.