Well I noticed that I still have some followers so that means one of two things have happened. One you were waiting patiently for my return to see if I had anything else to say or two you were too lazy to stop following. Regardless of the reason, you are still here so I figured I could drop in myself.

Well at last post my son was playing baseball. He had a pretty decent season and he truly enjoys the game as much as dad (thank you God). We took 2nd place and that's pretty decent. Lost the championship game but the boys played their hearts out. Just wasn't meant to be this time. He is already enrolled in Fall Ball and excited as can be to get started.

I figured that I was done with my ball playing days. After all I'm almost 44 and broken down to the nth degree. What could I possibly have to prove? I figure that by now if there is something I haven't accomplished on the ball field it's just not gonna happen. So what keeps dragging my sorry old butt out there to play again? I am gonna go with ignorance. My friends tell me that it's just my first love and I can never let it go completely (that's why they made the Wii).

So a co-worker tells me about this co-ed league he is in and he says "you'll love it, it's really low key and everybody just hangs out after the games. We are just there for a little fun, nothing too serious." I'm thinking that is just for me. No serious running and no serious attitude. I forgot this is me and I'm not made that way. I play to win, regardless if it's co-ed, men's league, little league, or eventually nursing home league. I don't like to lose and I especially don't like to lose because of something I did.

First sign that this wasn't gonna be so good. The second practice we had. I realized that I still have the ability to play and as I get older I can hit the ball much further and harder than in the past (could be the extra 25 lbs.) I'm enjoying myself to no end on the field just fielding grounders and hitting the ball to the fence and then disaster struck. I come flying around (trotting) 3rd base and hit the base wrong. There goes the hammy. No big deal though, it was just a slight pull and I let up when I felt it. No real damage done. Next at bat I crushed it ( I really did) and as I'm admiring the shot down third base line as it heads for the fence I ....fall on the way to first base. Apparently everybody but me was focusing on the first base line and I tripped...down I go. Hurt the hammy a bit more, but even worse the knee is swollen like the softball I just hit. I'm relagated to 1st base in the field and a courtesy runner if I'm lucky enough to limp to first after hitting it.

Nobody really laughed at me when that happened (not to my face at least). It only took me 3 weeks to recover from something that used to take 3 days. but hey I'm still walking and I've decided that I have to come to grips with the fact that I'm not 25 anymore. I've learned to hit far and run slow. I've also learned that infield is not that bad after all even for an old outfielder. We are doing pretty good, and I'm thinking that if I can just keep from falling down anymore I might even try this again next year.

On a side note. My dad is doing really well since his transplant. My parents went on vacation last week to Santa Cruz and my dad was able to walk up and down the hills without any problems whatsoever. In fact I had more difficulty than he did. Of course I didn't tell him that and I sure didn't let on that it was killing me to walk a step ahead of him all the while telling the old man to hurry it up.

so 7 more weeks of softball and I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If I get up the nerve I'm gonna take a couple of pictures of a game. That should be good for a laugh for anybody who looks at it.

Play ball!!