Our company team practiced a few times before the games started. Somehow I ended up playing first base. I had a really good stretch, but I didn’t like when the woman playing third base careened the ball to me. I was playing with some pretty hardcore players. I really enjoyed batting too; those underhanded pitches didn’t scare me like baseball pitches did, so I was able to get some nice hits.
When we got our season schedule, I recognized other company names which was kind of fun to see. There was one company I didn’t recognize though. For some reason we had games scheduled against the Danbury Federal Correctional Facility. Really? The women's prison? I thought it was a joke when I saw that on our schedule. We were going to play the prison guards? But I was in for a rude awakening…it wasn’t the guards we were playing, but the prisoners themselves. Apparently they had a team and needed other teams to play against, so ‘someone’ put them in the league with us.
To say that a few of us were apprehensive to play against prisoners was an understatement. But if none of us showed up, we would forfeit the game, and no one wanted that to happen. So, on that fateful day back in ‘93, we all showed up in the parking lot of the prison. Obviously no friends or supporters were allowed to come cheer us on. We were told not to bring anything inside except our mitt and equipment. We couldn’t even bring our own water bottles. For obvious reasons, no jewelry was allowed inside either. So a bunch of us were taking off our wedding rings and hiding them in our glove compartments.
After doing the necessary check-in at the front desk area, we entered what seemed to be a very large elevator. When the door shut, the door on the opposite side immediately opened. It was not an elevator at all; it was a transfer area protected by the double doors, where only one could be open at a time. My uneasiness grew.
As we walked across the expansive lawn to the field, we passed other prisoners who were outside doing whatever. When we arrived at the softball field, I almost died. Before us loomed about a dozen gigantic women. No greetings, no smiles, no sharing of the infield for warm-ups. Just a bunch of really loud women who must have worked out every day to be in the shape they were in for their sport, their outlet. We were simply the ones they were going to let it out on.
We went to bat the first inning and were quickly out 1-2-3. When we took the field, I took my spot on first base. Then it began. Hit after hit after hit. And I am talking BIG hits. The woman charging down the line towards first base could have cared less that a scrawny little white girl was trying to cover first base. As a matter of fact, one of them ran right into me, even though I was not on the base; I was well to the right of it. She was looking for me to retaliate, but I just ignored her. I was a bit intimidated and a little shocked. All I kept thinking was “I have a 3 and 6 year old at home… I have a 3 and 6 year old at home…” When we scored our only run, the other team was so mad, it was frightening.
After some very long innings, we were finally able to call it a game and leave. We were defeated 20-1. We couldn’t wait to get out and back to our cars. Although there was still another game against the prison team that season, it didn’t much matter. I was done. Forfeit or not, once was enough for me.
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