by Maggie Heaphy
I walk up to bat for the first time of the year. My hands shake as a Division I committed pitcher stares me down, with a slight grin on his face. He had clocked in at 89 mph in the first few batters of the game, which was nothing for him. "Wait-" I hear from the other team's dugout. "There's no way!" Their chirping goes silent, as they come to the classic realization that the next batter had a ponytail peeking from under his batting helmet. He was short and skinny, had long hair, and seemed to be called 'Maggie' by his teammates. It wasn't a 'he.' I was a girl- the first one they had seen.