When I was in 5th grade, it seemed we played softball every day. Yet, common sense tells me it was most likely a weekly occurrence. And, I seriously cannot remember if it was boys against girls, two predetermined captains picking players to be on their team, or maybe it was half the class playing against the other half. Anyway, no matter because what I do remember was that I always seemed to be chosen towards the end. Not the last loser in the class, but close enough.

One afternoon, I recall the teacher calling out “Today’s rule. You have to play with your opposing hand.” As in right-handers played left handed, lefties had to play right-handed.

Oh yeah! Was someone looking out for me, or what?

You see, and as pretty much everyone knew, I was a lefty. I mean who wouldn’t have noticed someone writing with their left hand while everyone else wrote right-handed? Right?

Right. But the thing is, and has always been, the only thing I do is write left-handed. Everything else I am stronger on my right side. Strange? Yes. But, whatever. It is what it is. (And for the record, I have made it a habit to eat as a lefty as well.)

So, anyway, there I was standing on home plate, batting right-handed, and I’m sure you can guess how amazed all the other fifth graders were when I smacked that ball out of the field and made a home run! I raced around those bases, laughing, and cheering myself on. So did my teammates.

I became a superstar that day. Unfortunately, in order for me to keep up my facade I had to have reasons not to play after that. I mean, seriously, there was no way, no how that I was going to admit my deception. Would you?