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Never Been Picked


The following piece is a story written about a funny conversation a friend of mine had, i chose to write it in first person to add enfasis... enjoy:

“I feel his pain” My friend said as we sat on the bench after a long run.
“What?” I said puzzled.
“I said I feel his pain”
“Who’s pain?”
“That kids!” She said pointing to the group of boys on the baseball field.
“Why?” I asked
“No one’s gonna pick him watch”

I looked at what she was pointing and sure enough there was a group of kids about to play a game of baseball. Each captain was choosing the players. One by one the kids lined up, till the last one standing was the boy. He looked with hopeful eyes to one captain than the other. Realizing all positions had been filled, he shrugged his shoulders and slowly began the walk to the bench, where he sat slouching down, resting his chin on his hand.

“See!” she pointed. “No one picked him. I’m like that kid. Alone and unwanted.”

I laughed, “Why is that?”

“The first time I met Joe I thought he was so cute. The next thing I know you’re talking to him."

I laugh... “I didn’t know you were interested in him”

“I’m not! It gets worse. Then I went to Miami with Mary. We sat in first class when along comes the pilot. He was so dreamy. Handsome. Perfect. We both got excited because he talked to us. When we return home, on Saturday, Mary called me to go to a party. You know how much I hate parties?”

“Yea I know”

“So I said no, I pass. Like I always do. Besides nothing exciting ever happens. The next thing I know Mary calls me the next day to tell me that the pilot was a witness!!! And he was at the party and now they are talking!!”

“Oh no!” I said jokingly.

“It was always my dream to marry a pilot and travel the world… that was supposed to be me”. She says overwhelmed. “I never get picked. I hate you!” she said laughing.

“That’s not true!” And I hug her.

“Do you realize I have 11 bridesmaid dresses in my closet… I’ve thrown showers. I’ve died shoes colors not found in nature. I’ve danced with weird groomsmen! I’ve done it all. When is it gonna be my turn?” she says defeated.

“You’re prince charming will arrive one day when you least expect it. You’re turn will come” I said trying to comfort her.

“That sounds like a bad hallmark card you give to your unmarried friends!” she says.

And we both laugh. Because love is like that. We all line up to play the game. Some are first picks. Some find a place to hide when their name is called. Some are the replacement of an injured player. Some are the substitution of a player who has no game. And then there are those who await, slouched on the bench, for the sound of the whistle, for the sound of their name, for the sound of love to say. It’s your turn. Play ball!!
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