I don’t really get embarrassed in too many situations.

I get uncomfortable speaking in front of crowds—a rather new(ish) development—but certainly not embarrassed. As such, it took some work for me to think up something recent to fit under the “embarrassing experience” umbrella of today’s writing prompt.

Then I figured I’d broaden the scope of “embarrassing” a little bit and *BLAM* there it was…

Share a recent embarrassing experience. What happened?

Perhaps this experience isn’t what one would normally consider “embarrassing,” but I certainly did.

Monday night my fall softball team—the Face Melters—were playing in the semi-finals.

We had a great season. We went 7-3 and only really got beat in one of those three games. We gave one game away because we all came out flat and tired (in our defense, the game started at like a quarter after ten on a Wednesday). In the other close game, the opposing team squeaked back to win it in the bottom of the seventh inning by one-run because we made a HUGE defensive mistake.

The other loss on our docket was to a team that annihilated us something like 37-11. That was a rough day. We spent all day trying to hunt down enough people to play the game—in the end we didn’t have enough ladies and suffered greatly as a result—and then we couldn’t find the field. As such, we drove around lost for roughly half an hour and got to the field right as the game was starting.

No warm-ups. No nothing. Game on. We were also down two position players at the time against a team that could put the ball pretty much wherever they wanted. It wasn’t pretty.

Anyway, so we had one helluva season. This was an amazing turn-around considering that in 2009—our inaugural season—we barely managed one win all season long. As such, it was quite a feat to find ourselves one win away from the championship game.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get that win.

We played a back and forth game with the infamous Betty White All-Stars and had our chance, we just didn’t come through.

We held ‘em with an amazing defensive stand in the top of the seventh that kept the score tied at eleven runs apiece. We had the heart of our order coming up and only needed one run to walk-off as winners and advance to the Promised Land of the championship game.

Our stud shortstop, Foley, led off with a single that dropped in just in front of the defender to get things started. Leesa, our right fielder, stepped in next and was clearly over anxious…she popped one straight up to get the first out.

That led to my at-bat and the reason I’m writing this entire drawn out recap. I’m our clean-up hitter. I led the team in RBIs and home runs and—without sounding like I’m tooting my own horn too much—I’m pretty damned good at softball.

If I hit a single or hit anything that gets in for a hit here, it moves Foley into scoring position with one out and Mikey Vegas—one of our best hitters—behind me in the lineup.

I took a called strike on a pitch that was about three inches inside. That made the count 1-2. We start with a dreadful 1-1 count in this league. I’ve grown so accustomed to playing with the mighty Bibliotechs in my summer league where you start out with an empty count. It’s taken a lot of getting used to.

As such, I got giddy and swung at the next pitch trying to avoid a called third strike. I laced a solidly hit ball up the middle, but the other team’s second baseman got her glove on it and made the flip to the shortstop covering the bag to gun down Foley and they were so quick about it that I only beat the throw to first by about a step.

It was one helluva defensive play on their part. You see—at most—maybe two or three double-plays a year in slow-pitch softball and I nearly watched our season come to a screeching halt because I’d hit into one.

Luckily, I beat the throw, but the damage was done. My inability to get a legit base hit and move the runner up had cost us tremendously.

Vegas stepped up, with two outs and a runner on first—rather than second or third, as it should have been—and a ton of pressure to kill the ball so that I could try and score from first base.

Vegas did his part, crushing the ball, but the other team’s defense was too solid. They got the ball in fast and held me at third with a strike to the plate and Vegas at second base. Jenna stepped in next and hit a nice, solid hit toward the hole between first and second that was about thisclose to getting through for the game winner as I raced across the plate, but they made the play, beating her at first by about half a step.

The would-be game winning inning turned into a dud. We headed back out to defense in extra innings, but the team was clearly deflated.

We gave up four runs as our defense fell apart in the infield and then we went down meekly in the bottom of the eighth to bring our season to a heartbreaking conclusion.

It may not have been “embarrassing” to not get a hit in that situation, but it certainly feels like it to me. I’m still putting it on my shoulders and it sucks.

I realize that we made a bunch of big time defensive mistakes that game and I wasn’t the only one to come up lame at the plate on the evening, but damned if that doesn’t sting a little.

So yeah, right now that is the most recent “embarrassing” experience and I’m assuming it’ll stick in my craw for awhile.