B Team

“B” is fine

It’s more than passing.

It’s 3.5 stars out of five.

It’s a bronze medal!

Being

B Team was completely acceptable.

It was infinitely frustrating.

Dance? Second Company. Alternate Cast. Cast “B.”

School plays? Understudy.

Softball? No.

Field Hockey? No.

Volleyball? Not even close.

Dating? Popularity? Car Maintenance?

B

B

D ( . . . it’s only a F if you break down, right?)

My big sister was an ace at everything social. My little sister had the brains: she can do anything, my dad said once in her absence, so you know he meant that shit. And I. I was perseverant. That was what my mom called me.

Ohmystars, my mom is clever.

B Team identity

for better or worse,

for mediocre, let’s say,

has stayed with me.

It’s made for a good story:

lots of twists and turns

rooting for the unlikely hero

but, you know . . .

it’s no A.

I’m a middle sister

from the middle of Ohio

in the middle of America

and currently what they call middle-age.

Without my perseverance, I’m actually a C.

The world doesn’t

help The B Team further succeed

because it needs its B Team

firmly rooted

in slot B.

We are a solid bunch

reliable in our mediocrity.

I work on this, actually,

with a coach.

That’s what I call him:

coach.

He prefers teacher,

(it’s not batting practice for chrissakes)

but whatever ya call it,

I need help

and he helps me.

A lifelong member of the B Team

can trap herself there.

It’s a little easier on the B Team,

a lot less responsibility.

No one is really paying attention

which means no critique

or review

or tweet

(I am mostly fearful of tweets.)

I stay away

and then whine

that no one notices me.

Put me in, coach.

No, don’t!

We

on the B Team

are as fearful of failure

as we are of success,

which means

perhaps we can hit

with a great deal of power

but we have shitty aim.

Terrific sportsmanship,

but zero coordination.

We feel we can do it

but we don’t believe.

Don’t put in me, coach.

The bench is good.

I once was replaced

in my own play

by a younger

prettier

non-union actor

and I said okay.

I said I wanted

what was best for the play.

it did not occur to me to fight it

even politely

I almost always fold.

Who are the gals

that happily accept

a spot on the A Team?

It’s not a necessary question.

Those ladies–

We know those ladies

Who say

damn right, I can do that.

you need me.

I said that once

when my daughter was born.

I pushed this person out of myself

and I thought:

I am the expert here.

(I was hardly alone in the achievement;

my husband cheered,

a midwife coached.)

But mostly

I’m an underachiever.

which is gross.

and backward

and inexcusable.

I couldn’t really care about learning

Until I left educational institutions.

I couldn’t value religion

Until I left the Church.

Nothing I’m doing is nearly good enough

as the thing that I can’t attain.

The bench is good.

The bench is fine.

My butt hurts.