April 11, 2006

Hey batter, batter, batter.

Posted in Keeping Up With The Cients at 8:51 pm by devilwearsbrooksbrothers

Every spring we are forced to play several softball games with one of our clients. Maybe forced is a bit harsh, some of the attorneys enjoy it; unfortunately not enough to field a team. So, one spring afternoon an associate approached me about playing that evening. It would seem they were short players and hoping to get more girls involved. I would like to hope I was asked because it was convenient for me to run home and change, or because the powers that be knew I didn’t have kids and a husband and therefore responsibilities that called me home.

My friend, we’ll call her Kay, once chose a doctor based almost solely on his looks. She went through her health care plan to determine which doctors accepted her insurance and from there, she picked the hottest of the bunch.

And I suppose this should shock or concern me, but it begs the question, why are the doctor’s picture available in the first place.

Same goes for attorneys. I would suspect the majority of you have your picture and bio on your respective firm’s websites. Maybe it is because prospective clients want to know if you look trustworthy, or maybe prospective clients are more likely to trust attractive people.

Still, always happy to help, I ran home, changed into yoga pants and a t-shirt, threw on sneakers that were not of the athletic variety and hurried back to the office in time to catch a ride to the field. At the time my hair was not quite long enough to pull back into a single ponytail, so I parted my hair down the middle and pulled it into two pigtails. I thought I looked very sporty.

We got to the field and positions were being divvied out. I should mention here that I rowed in college. Not because I am athletic, but the opposite. I have no hand-eye coordination, I can’t throw very far, and as far as I do manage to throw is usually about three feet from where I was aiming. So, in a game of slow-pitch softball, I was given the position of catcher.

At first this was a very easy position. The pitcher threw the ball, sometimes the batter hit it, other times it was allowed to bounce and I caught it or chased after it and then I threw it back to the pitcher. By the second inning the pitcher had even learned enough to know to take a couple steps forward before I threw it. I had even managed to go without taking a turn at bat. I was feeling really confident about my slow-pitch softball ability.

I guess it was close to the end of the game. I hadn’t had to bat. I hadn’t screwed up too terribly and now the pitcher’s arm was getting tired so my wild throws back to him didn’t look that bad. Drinks were being had, and the clients were getting a little rowdy, which may excuse the client’s coach when he screamed “Big-Man, bet you’re hoping for a play at home.”

Now, dear readers, my baseball knowledge is limited. My slow-pitch softball knowledge even more so. Still, I knew one thing and that was catchers – for the ladies reading this, you know what I mean – so I know that when there is a “play at home” a runner is typically colliding with the catcher.

My eyebrows shot up and gloved hand dropped to my side. I don’t collide. Colliding leads to bruises and broken arms and wasn’t the point of these things to let the client win. Although in our client’s defense they were kicking our butts without our help.

Fortunately, my moral dilemma didn’t last long. Our coach, another partner with a daughter not much younger than me leaned forward, and through the gate told me to take a step back. I did, smiled at the pitcher, who I think gave me a look of empathy and then managed to strike the batter out.

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1 Comment »

  1. Kay said,

    To my defense, it was a very slow year men-wise. I’d only been meeting excessive gamblers or men who still lived with their mommies. I had to take it into my own hands to find a man from a better gene pool. That said, Dr. Cutie was a complete dork who was full of himself and spend the entire exam flirting with his nurse.

    –Kay


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