So you want to play ball. You want to play the GREAT AMERICAN PASTIME. Okay.
First off, before anything begins, before you even smell the grass, you'll go through what most people call "conditioning," which I'd like to define more accurately as "a little piece of Hades."
In an average conditioning session, we start by s-t-r-e-t-c-h-i-n-g, then we run until our legs feel as if they're going to fall off. And if he (the coach) thinks that someone is loafing, the entire team gets to run some more. Of course, we are punished for something stupid at least twice a week, which means our running time is practically doubled, our rests are shorter, and the hard drills like "suicides" and 1-minute sprints replace our normal procedures.
The worst part, however, is the fact that we have to do all of this running in the compact confines of the hall at the lower end of the school. Take it from me, that's terrible. The area's not long enough or wide enough and after the first ten minutes of sprinting, there doesn't seem to be any air circulating there at all.
This conditioning goes on for a month before things get easier and we begin actual practice. That's when the fun starts -- at last, the grass! Then the games. Finally. The games that never, never, never disappoint. Win or lose, they never disappoint.