The author bakes in his kickball uniform. | Photo courtesy of Rachel Smith

In May, I wrote about joining Kicking the Habit, one of 10 kickball teams in the Ann Arbor Rec & Ed circuit (Municipal League, Wednesdays). I wasn’t sure what I was getting myself into, having been recruited by my friend Aimee to join a team of strangers, but it’s been a good experience. 

I won’t sugarcoat the journey. There’ve been bumps in the road. Our team was pretty intense for the first few games and I was afraid I’d gotten myself involved with the Cobra Kai of kickball teams. We had a killer instinct (13-0 and 12-2 victories to open the season) and there wasn’t much merriment in the beginning and I worried that Wednesday nights would feel more like work than play.

Things evened out as spring turned to summer. The mood of our team lightened and we started to have more fun. We had some close calls like our 7-4 win over the Kick Backs, and more blowouts like our 17-4 win over the Bedroom Mastadons (sic) but we started having more fun. I got to know my teammates a little better, though, and this is going to come back to bite me in the ass, I still know most of them by the nicknames on the back of their shirts rather than their baby bracelet names. It’s not you, it’s me.

After starting the season 4-0 we ran into our toughest competition yet - the Blue Barracudas. Just one of four teams without a kickball themed team moniker, the Barracudas were highly trained, highly skilled and caught us on a very bad night. They whupped us 14-8, handing the team its first loss of the season. Spirits were down. Dreams dashed. With only the top two teams in the league advancing to the finals, our team captain was on the verge of tears. He had failed us, but we forgave him. How couldn’t we forgive him?

Here’s a plug for team captain Justin Johnson who coordinated everything so well this year. The man brought laminated sheets detailing our defensive positions, kicking order and who was in charge of team foot massages. His sheets were updated each week and color coded. Bravo, Mr. Johnson!

Our team soldiered on, eeking out a two-run win over our next opponent in a torrential downpour before bashing Just for Kicks 15-1. It seemed our swagger had returned. And that’s when I went to a conference in San Francisco and abandoned my team. Even all the way across the country I heard news of their 3-2 victory over Red Balls, one of the top teams in the land. With one game left in the regular season, a ticket to the title game was there for the taking. All that stood between us and sipping champagne from a rusty championship trophy was Hells Bells.

Who are Hells Bells, you ask? Like you don’t know! One of the first things my teammates told me when I signed on was that Hells Bells was our chief rival. They train year-round, adhere to a strict nutritional program and may or may not cork their shoes. We were originally supposed to face them in the season opener, but rain pushed the game to the end of the year. Fitting.

We took the field in the finale and the showdown was everything you’d expect in a rivalry. There were diving catches, small kicks, big kicks, more kicking, also some throwing. It was a battle. In the end, the good guys (ahem, us) triumphed 4-2 and punched our ticket to the championship game. There was much celebrating, most of it silent, because we didn’t want members of Hell’s Bells to beat us up in the parking lot.

Tonight is the championship. A rematch between us and the Blue Barracudas. The Barracudas only have one loss on their sheet as well but also ridiculous dominating victories like a 25-4 shellacking of the Kick Backs and a 21-1 win over Just For Kicks. That’s not sweeping the leg; that’s amputating it with a plastic knife!

I’ll be ready. WE’LL be ready! Come out to Vet’s Park Field #2 tonight at 8:15 p.m. to cheer on the team of destiny (us, of course). I can promise fun, kicking, catching, throwing and some mild trash talk. I will be wearing pink knee socks and a scowl. The games last about 45 minutes and there’s a Dairy Queen nearby where you can take your sweetie after the match. Who doesn’t want to enjoy a Cheesequake Brownie Explosion Blizzard after watching me cry like a baby, win or lose?

I’d also encourage you to join a fall kickball league or try any rec sports that the city offers! Try it out. You’ll have fun. But don’t join the Hell’s Bells or you’ll come in third place. TRASH TALK! See you tonight!

Richard Retyi writes the bi-weekly(ish) column Lie to Your Cats About Santa and hasn't won a championship title of any kind since playing basketball in middle school. Read more of his stuff here and email any story ideas to richretyi@gmail.com.