Softball

Back in college, I ran around with a group of people, who – collectively – had the skills of a decent softball team.

None of us were great all-around players, but some of us could hit, some of us could field and most of us could manage a mildly successful imitation of both. Hence, we always stood a decent chance of winning.

I was thinking about this as I drove home from a 25-zip massacre at the hands of a very average team in the lowest division the city of Denton offers. We had one player who ran towards a pop-up, yelling, “I don’t got it! Someone else get it!” Yet she continued running toward it -- and into the crowd trying to catch it. (A very likable person, by the way, but I had to use an example.)

So I was thinking about college, and the thought hit me: It’s been more than a freakin’ decade since I won a softball game. Twelve years. Bill Clinton was frolicking through his first term. The Internet was this place where people went to “alt” sites to compare text on the grunge movement.

Children have started and completed their educational careers in the time since I last made it across home plate.

It’s not that I haven’t played, it’s that I haven’t played seriously, or with anyone else who took it that seriously. I’ve just been on company teams – newspaper teams at that -- where the emphasis is on fun. As in “You're outside so shut the hell up.”

So, as Wednesday was the first game of our season, here we go again. I feel like the Charlie Brown of softball, only with less hair.