Kids take basketball seriously
Kids are brutal. If you need any proof, pick up a copy of “Lord of the Flies” or visit any elementary school.
Feeling completely defeated by my recent attempt at water polo, I realized I needed to scale down on the intensity of sports and go back to my childhood roots. This involved a trip to Adams Elementary School here in Logan.
Adams Elementary has an after-school program where children can come for extra-curricular learning and to play active games. One of which includes a sport so violent it has been banned from every major university across the country: kickball.
What? You don’t think kickball has been banned because it’s violent? Then why doesn’t Utah State have a school kickball team? Answer: they’d have to play exhibition games against elementary schools and they would get clobbered. Yes, kids these days are as intense about kickball as an Ohio State and Michigan rivalry.
When I stepped onto the kickball field, I was amused to see people half my height and a quarter my weight staring back at me. They demanded a game of adult leaders versus the kids. They seemed pretty confident in their kickball abilities, but I had a hard time taking them seriously. I couldn’t help but think, “These kids don’t stand a chance. I might not be a star athlete, but I can definitely take a bunch of kids in kickball.”
It was one of those moments when I had to eat my words. The kids’ team, which we will call the Owls (their school mascot), were up to kick first. The adults’ team, which we will call the Geriatrics, spread across the field. I covered third base, which was in fact, a hula hoop. No kickball game is complete without makeshift bases.
I felt confident we had this game in the bag until the first player on the Owls pounded the ball across the field and sent our outfielders scrambling to catch it. Lucky kick, we’ll get them next time. The trash talking started about this time. I don’t know where kids these days learn how to trash talk, but they’re sure good at it. They could make any pro football player cry.
The game did not start out well for the Geriatrics. The Owls ran us into the ground. They varied their kicks from drilling the ball across the field to short bunts. I was amazed to see that some of the best players for the Owls were the kindergarten kids. How they could kick that ball so well and run so fast is a mystery to me. By the end of their first at kick, the score was 9-0. I wasn’t worried about it ,though, because now we had the chance to boot the ball over the schoolyard fence.
Our first kicker sent the ball flying so high and far I was sure it would take the kids five minutes to get it back. I had a panic attack when they had the ball back in the infield right as our player got to home. The score was now 9-1, but I could see these kids knew how to play this game.
As our next kicker came to the plate, a little girl in kindergarten said, “Go easy on us, we’re just kids. Geez!”
Her appeal for mercy must have twinged something in our hearts, because they proceeded to get us out quickly after that. The score was 9-3 when the Owls got up to kick again. I took the pitcher’s mound for this inning. Kickball pitching is an art. You have to roll the ball gently so it doesn’t bounce on the way to the kicker, but roll it with enough power that it’s not an easy kick.
The Owls had a couple star players that could really kick the ball. One was named Jake. He was the Mark McGwire of kickball (minus the steroids). Every time he kicked the ball, he would send our out-of-shape outfield running to try to catch it. When he got up to bat this time, one of the Geriatric star players, Miss Amber, tried to get into his head by trash talking.
“Easy out!” yelled Miss Amber.
Jake’s response was, “Whatever! We got you out. My grandma can kick better than you!”
Jake’s verbal victory was short lived, however, as he kicked the ball right into Miss Amber’s arms. He was completely demoralized and collapsed on the sidelines.
At our last at kick, we pulled out our own rally monkey. We went on a scoring spree that discouraged the kids to the point where they decided they didn’t want to play anymore. The final score was 18-9 in favor of the Owls.
As I walked off the field, I shook my head in disbelief that I couldn’t even pull off a win against a group of elementary school kids. This was yet another proof of my definite place in the sports middle class.
Seth Hawkins is a sophomore majoring in public relations. Comments and mini footballs can be sent to
sethhawkins@cc.usu.edu.