I wanted you all to know that I have now entered the exciting world of competitive skeeball. Although I’m fairly certain the league I joined places less emphasis on actual competition and more emphasis on drinking, t-shirts and coming up with catchy team names. Thanks to Jess, ours is “Skeecret Service,” and  somehow I have been made a team captain. When examining how this happened, I can only imagine it’s due to one of two reasons: 1) When the league organizer called and asked how I heard about them, I told him my dad bought my mom a skeeball lane for mothers day (because that’s how my family rolls), which made me wonder if there were leagues out there, and the rest is history. (His response was “Soooo, the internet?”) or 2) I signed up first.

They will one day say this is where Christy Crimmins got her start.

Those of you who know me will note that my athletic prowess dates back to my days as a little league softball player. My formative years were spent in the no man’s land of right field until I got glasses and was moved up to first base and eventually catcher. It should tell you what level of talent our team was working with that I ended up in these positions (no offense to anyone who was on my team that might be reading this, but you have to admit…).

From there, my sporting pursuits took me to the wonderful world of middle school athletics. Looking back, I refer to this time as “The Dark Days.” The consolation prize for not making whatever team was in season was to run. A lot. It was as though Stephen King designed our athletic program. My favorite was when we had to run a lap around the parking lot in a minute and a half, and if we didn’t make it in that time, we had to keep trying until we did. Even at 12 years old I failed to see the logic in this.

As luck would have it, my prospects brightened in the eighth grade and I made the volleyball team! As manager. Because I wrote an essay. That selection process was totally rigged. I’m still not convinced my mom didn’t have something to do with that. As a result of this position, I can absolutely attest to the team’s serving strength since I was on the other side of the net during practice to intercept said serves. Something I did with my face more times than I care to admit.

Once I hit high school, my physical education requirement was filled by marching band. Something I am forever grateful for. Marching band required just the level of skill and coordination I possessed and, best of all, there was no running and nothing flying at me that needed to be caught, dodged or hurled back in a timely fashion. It also allowed me to realize that I am NOT the least coordinated person out there. Trust me on this.

Basically, what I’m saying is that like marching band before it, skeeball is pretty much my speed. It requires the minimum amount of coordination and can be played indoors (the outdoor part was one of the few strikes marching had against it).  Also, did I mention the matches (games?) are held in a bar?