I’m 71 — It’s Time To Get Serious About Softball
Ahhh...the Dream Never Fades!
It was the night before the big day.
I tried to tell myself there was nothing to get nervous about. After all, what I was planning to do was not new to me. But after lying in bed and not falling asleep, it was obvious I was a little nervous. I kept telling myself to calm down. You see, I had done the same thing when I was 10 years old and then again in high school, and again when I was 42. No sweat!
Only this time, I’m 71 years old.
I tried not to think of those pesky extenuating circumstances that might derail me. A few operations to correct herniated discs in my back and neck, arthroscopies on both knees and one shoulder, an arthritic left hip, recurrent sciatica, and a recent bout of radiation which has hopefully halted cancer that was ravaging my prostate.
Other than all that, I feel great! Nothing to worry about.
I had signed up to play Senior softball at our local Community Park. I’ve been vaccinated, retired, and still feel energetic. I only knew one other guy who so I was put on a team with strangers. This would be a good thing. So I dug out my old glove and bat and threw them and my old cleats into the back of my car.
The website said there would be 82 signups for this day. I was shocked! That’s a lot of old guys. Four teams were drawn up, and I was assigned to one of them.
I arrived at the park 45 minutes early. The parking lot was already filled, and everyone was either stretching, putting on their cleats, filling their coolers, or just hanging out.
I took out my cleats that had been on a shelf in the garage, unused for the past 18 years, and started putting them on when I noticed the soles were cracked and falling apart. Oh well, my Nike sneakers would be just fine.
By 8:45, as if on cue, everyone started a slow walk to the fields. There is nothing like the sight of a baseball diamond to get my heart beating fast. The adrenaline started to kick in. I was approached by the manager assigned to my team, who introduced himself and asked me what position I played. I told him it didn’t matter, that it had been a while since I last played, so just put me anywhere.
Of course, I got the right field slot, which everyone knows is for newcomers, and well, not the best players. This never changes. I was actually pleased to be in right field. I hadn’t caught a fly ball or swung a bat in 18 years. During warmup, my throws went about halfway to the intended base.
What was I thinking?
The thought of slinking away unnoticed crossed my mind.
Most of these men are between the ages of 65 and 75. A few older, a few younger. It didn’t matter. They were all ballplayers. It was a pick-up game, but everyone wanted to win. They all knew each other and the players on the opposing team, so I was positioned accordingly for every hitter. It didn’t matter to them how long it had been for me or what my physical ailments were. They all have stories about their health that line up right there with mine.
We’re playing baseball now, so just get over it!
It’s been 2 months now.
Right off, I pulled my right hamstring. That healed in time to come back and pull the left one. Both my shoulders and upper back are quite sore too.
ALL THE TIME!
Now, after 2 more weeks of playing injury-free, I seem adjusted. And I’m doing OK. Hitting fairly well and not too many mistakes in the field. I’m playing twice a week, and it’s the most stress-free activity I could possibly do. No discussion of family problems, definitely no political talk. It’s hard for some people to get this, but we just want to play!
We play in South Florida, so the intense heat is a factor. This will be another challenge as the temperature hovers near 90 degrees. But they don’t call us the Boys of Summer for nothing!
Getting to know these men has been rewarding. I don’t know anything about their private lives, but I’m in a club now with men like myself. Life experiences have been different, but now we are all in the same place for the 2 hours we play.
Just yesterday, I came home and told my wife that I was coming off an 0 for 4 game and was 3 for 4 today. I told her my brief slump was over. She looked at me quizzically and started to laugh.
“You sound like you’re a little boy!”
I think she might be getting it now.
Every man who has ever enjoyed that experience in their younger days would like one more chance to make one last heroic catch or hit one last homer to win the game. You never lose that desire, and the dream never fades.