Softball

All the popular girls played softball. All the girls in my 5th grade class at my jewish elementary school played at Encino Girls Softball League. So, of course, I had to as well. So, my father decided he finally was getting a chance at a son or at least an athlete (sorry dad, not so much) and was excited to take me out into the street and teach me the game. My father ended up coaching me and my teams for the next 7 or 8 years and coming to a lot of my high school softball games. My mother never came. She came to a few, here and there. It was never like everyone else's moms who would bring snacks and drinks and stuff. She would do that occasionally, when it was her turn on the roster, but it wasn't like she wanted to. It felt more obligatory. She never wore those tacky buttons with my softball picture like the other moms did.

Her excuse to stop coming to the games was that whenever she came, we lost. She claimed that she was a jinx and would therefore not come to the games. I told her I wanted her to come, that I didn't think she was a jinx but too bad. My mother had found the perfect excuse. Not only did she not have to make an effort to be a part of her child's life, but now she found a way to do it and still play her favorite role, that of the victim. This is a theme that you will see repeated in this blog often.