Now I know how my dad felt about 35 or so years ago. When I was 10 and he was in his mid 40's. For those who don't follow at home, my dad was an amazing softball player (baseball too, but that was before I was born). I grew up on the softball diamond, watching him pitch fast pitch. I got pretty good too, playing 5 years of little league, then switching to softball. I played intramural and city league during college and grad school, either pitching (both slow and fast pitch) or playing shortstop. I won a lot, lost a lot, but in general was a very good player. But like many, when the family came, something had to give. My last gasp of organized softball was a city league in Claremont back in late 1997 when Calvin was less than a year old. Haven't picked up the glove since.
Fast forward to 2007. Turns out there is a city league team formed at work, and I joined into the fray. I knew I'd be rusty, but the instincts were still there...I hoped. The first game of the season was 2 weeks ago and we got crushed. Since I was a late arrival to the team, I split my time between the bench and the outfield (I'm no outfielder), but I went 1 for 1 hitting.
Missed last week's game, but was ready for tonight. I started off in the outfield, and again reiterated, "I'm no outfielder." I proved that when I misplayed a linedrive in the lights (I couldn't pick up the opposite spin on the ball). So I ended up moving to shortstop as we had some issues there as well (they scored like 15 runs in the first inning).
My first trip to bat was at least a sucess. Even though I couldn't find my bat at home. Hit a home run to right field (well, over his head and ran it out). So I was feeling ok. But then in the field...where I usually shine. It was just...not there. My mind was willing, but my body kept saying, "you want me to do what?" I made a good pickup off a deflected grounder, but threw wide of first. A line drive to my left tipped off the edge of my glove when I dove for it. One to my right caught me in the palm when I dove for it (and my palm still hurts). Theses were tough chances, but 10 years ago they would have been fairly routine plays for me. I could see the ball coming off the bat, I read it ok (although my eyes aren't what they used to be...lost a few throws in the lights), but my body just did not react. Back in the day it was automatic...I'd read the ball coming off the bat and my body would be moving before I'd think. Now I was thinking and the body was just sitting there mocking me.
That set the tone for the rest of the evening. We were getting creamed, but not as bad as the first two games (we're way over our head in this league). My next time up I got on because of an error, and I ended up making the final out of the game grounding to first with bases loaded (although we were down like 20 runs). Right field was wide open, and that is my sweet spot swing. But I just didn't catch it right. And so it was over. Calvin and I walked to the car, talking about where the bat could be...we didn' think we left it at the field two weeks ago, and not to make excuses, but I like my 34" 30oz bat and the heaviest we had tonight was a 28oz. No, not the equipment, but the body. Life lesson. Long hot shower, hope I'm not as sore this weekend as I was after the last game (I better not be, I'm racing Sat/Sun). And just accept what life has to offer. But maybe not go quite so quietly into the gentle night...but I would like to get one clean ground ball and make a nice snap throw to first...
