Wednesday, May 09, 2007

There's No Crying in Baseball!

Things that were fun and easy at 20 become challenging and regrettable at 49.

Signing up for the church mixed softball league team seemed like a good idea at the time. Monday was my first practice with the team. I keep telling myself they need me because they have to field three female players on the roster for each game.

Coming from a family with seven brothers, I played a lot of softball in my day. I was one of the top two female players in grade six and could hit very strongly. I hit about as far now, but it doesn’t look as strong as an adult. I also can’t throw from home all the way back to the pitcher – is that sad or what? I did manage to throw from second to first in time for a double play, though, so I guess my arm warmed up.

However, now that it’s two days later, in spite of enjoying a nice long soak in the Jacuzzi Monday night, I’m discovering I have some “groan” muscles. It was a long, cold, sedentary winter.

As for my performance at practice: I didn’t stand out. That's okay. I can still hit, I can still catch and I can still fumble a hard ground ball with the best of them. Softball is an oxymoron when it meets your shins. And then an encouraging teammate just had to quip: "Some infielders use soccer shin guards."

Funny, I don’t even notice the bruising. I’m too busy popping ibuprofen for the muscle spasms.

What a great time! I’m looking forward to our game Thursday. If I can find a hydraulic lift to move me from the couch to the car.

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