Back before I became a teacher, I was a nanny for rich families up on Skyline. It was a sweet gig. The kids were mostly well-behaved, I made cash money, and got to work on my tan. One of the girls I watched was an eight year old jock. We would race and play tennis and swim like crazy, but I was a giant failure because I sucked at playing catch. One time I threw the ball for their dog and she suddenly burst out into incredulous laughter, spitting out the words, “THAT’S how you throw a ball?! THAT WAS PATHETIC!” She then proceeded to throw several nearby softballs miles beyond my pathetic throw. Like over the mountains. That was the end of my throwing in public.
Today Thor gave me my first “throwing” lesson. We went over the the field next to our place with our new mitts and the baseball he gave me for Christmas (I’m the son he never had). I’ll fully admit that when it comes to throwing and catching, I’m a total girl. I’m afraid of getting hit and I have no form. The problem is, when you’re in the teaching field, you expect people to explain things to you in a really descriptive and explicit manner.
When I work out with my trainer, she says things like, “Bend your knees more,” “Keep your chest up,” or “Keep your head up and elbows in.” That makes sense. Thor was more like, “Uhhh yeah, you gotta go like this,” and would mock throw the ball. Then I would mimic what I thought he did and go, “Like this?” And he’d say, “No. Like this!” and I would try again and he would just shake his head, “No, not like that – like THIS!”
Regardless, we threw the ball back and forth, and after an hour, I felt like I at least could throw the ball 30 feet without looking completely awkward. Thinking back to my nannying days, I know that distance is important to me as much as accuracy and form. So next week I’ll shoot for 40 feet!