Jill's Journal: Taking one for the team

I’m a ball magnet.

At least, that’s how I’ve felt more times than I can count in my community journalism career. No matter what sideline I’m on, crazily so, balls of all sizes – and hardness –  have pelted me.

Tennis. Check.

Volleyball. Check.

Golf. Check.

Football. Check.

Soccer. Check.

Softball. Check.

And the list goes on.

Fortunately, there’s no need for a ball in the sport of wrestling, however I did once have a wrestler land right in my lap while I was mat side snapping pictures. 

I’ve also been mowed over by a football referee and cleated on my right shing by a wide receive way back in the early 1990s.

I have a scar to prove that one.

And on the opposite shin, easy-to-spt scar left by the imprint of a hard hit softball.

My colleagues on the sidelines have witnessed the many hits I’ve taken. It’s a topic that comes up whenever  a ball has come my way, is coming my way or just smacked me somewhere on this 62-year-old frame of mine.

Who would’ve ever thought a job that entails a camera and a keyboard could be so physically dangerous?

I’ve come to the conclusion that this ol’ weekly newspaper editor needs shin guards, a mouth guard – because I’ve invested a lot in this smile – and perhaps a helmet and some shoulder pads are warranted when I’m on the football sidelines.

I’m here to tell you that a running back in full mode speed isn’t stopping for a gal with camera in hand nor is the defensive back chasing him.

Speaking of cameras, we photographers are sort of a silly kind of people. For whatever reason, we’re more worried about the camera than whatever part of our body is being taken out by an athlete or a misdirected ball.

I’m going to do my best to protect my bruised my shin over these final weeks of the fall sports season. And with basketball and wrestling on the horizon, you can bet I’m going to be keeping a keen eye on what’s happening on the court and on the mat. And if for some reason a couple of wrestlers start to roll my way, rest assured, I’m simply going to roll over on my back and loudly announce, “Pinned.”

Match over.