First you pitch, then you stitch

These people get this all out of order.
If you're stitching, who is doing the pitching?
I figured that one out on Friday night.
Here's the backstory.
Where I work, along with lots of other companies, we participated in the "Eat Well, Live Well" challenge.
I did it so I could get a nifty pedometer.
So materialistic, eh.
Now where is that thing?
Anyway, the guy who coordinated it for my work called and asked if he could put my name in to throw out the first pitch at a Red Wings game.
I said sure, knowing full well that I'd have a better chance of winning the NYS lottery.
(Oh please, oh please, let me win!)
I came upstairs a week ago from a meeting and my coworker Debbie had a serious shit-eating grin on her face.
She said, "Julie, you have a message. Call Amy at Rochester Business Alliance."
I looked at Debbie, I thought about it, and I said, "Oh this better not be what I think it is."
It was.
Of course Debbie went and got tickets so she could watch my shame.
Along with another 3,000 or so people.
Arrgh.
Did I practice?
Not really.
I did get a t-shirt to wear from the Athletic Director so I could represent.
Of course I look fuge!
Maybe I should go find that pedometer and work on my 10,000 steps.
Anyway, come to find out there were six people total out there throwing out pitches, but mine was the "official" one.
Of the six there was only one female.
Me!
Sounds about like the Marine Corps demographics.
Anyway once the guy who was fourth in line TOTALLY screwed up throwing his pitch, the pressure was really taken off of me.
At least I thought so.
After all, he was a guy and if he had trouble getting a pitch in to the catcher then what would the crowd expect from a fat girl?
I wish I had taken just a minute more to settle down but I just got up there and threw the ball.
And it made it to the catcher!
It bounced twice, but hey, it got there and didn't go flying off somewhere else.
Once it was over I headed back into the stands to try and fix my poor Chevron scarf and have a beer.
As I was taking pictures of the scarf DH said to me, "You're acting like Jennifer."
That was a compliment of the highest order.
And I think he meant it as such.

I should have had the beer before I went out to pitch.
Since my knitting is still cursed I took some wonky pictures instead.

"Oh Canada! Our home and native land...."
So that's my story about my major league, well AAA, pitching debut.
They let me go once I was done.
Guess the only player coming out of Rochester to make it into the Hall of Fame is Cal Ripken; you won't see my name there.
The Hall of Shame maybe.
Ha!