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I'm friggin old...Softball at 49


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So I'm working here in Ft. Worth, office gig.  They somehow figured out it would be a good idea to invite me to play on the softball team.

So first game was Tuesday night (we're in two leagues, Tues and Fri nights).  We have 14 guys so lots of subbing in and out, and I'm playing 2nd.  Kind of platooning, I play one inning and another guy plays the next, so on and so forth.

I go 3 for 3, all singles.  Could a couple have been doubles?  Sure, but I ain't going for two unless I can walk to 2nd from first.  Some young punk (27) talked all kinds of smack and then struck out swinging first at bat.  He's on the hook for a case of beer tomorrow night.  But I digress...

Last inning, we're up 15-3, they have last at bat.  Not my turn for the field, so I'm standing in the dugout.  My buddy that plays SS (37) says "go play short...I'm done".  So I head out there...against my better judgement.  1st two guys pop out (this team SUCKED).  Last guy up and they haven't hit a ball hard all night.  Well....

Dude hits one on the screws, young kid with wheels...probably 22 or so.  Infield is soft dirt so I'm expecting it to stick to the ground.  I go to lower my glove, but this thing is really smashed.  One hop and it's heading at my face...but I'm still heading down with my glove by the time I realized it.  Nothing else to do, I stick my right hand up and snag it like Omar Vizquel lol.  Count some laces and beat him by a step at first because my 49 year old arm works better than Nootch's much younger arm.  

Learned today that I'm playing SS tomorrow night because my buddy's gonna be out for his daughter's b-day party...I ain't happy about it. 

I'll try to get Mrs. Fish to snap a pic or two.  Hopefully I live...

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On 9/20/2018 at 8:20 PM, Fishhead said:

Count some laces and beat him by a step at first because my 49 year old arm works better than Nootch's much younger arm.  


that ain’t saying much, my arm is toast. 

but no way in hell you throwing me out from short.  in fact, you probably woulda rushed the throw and chucked in the dirt and up line. which means i’m standing on 2nd now and chattering in your ear.

all singles? how is that even possible?

did you fall down halfway to first or something?

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but since you bring it up, DAMN i miss playing. 

i don’t what i’d give up to have just one more night under those lights. one more hot summer weekend tournament, knowing there was no way we was losing 2 before day 3.   just one more time with the knee high socks, cleats half a size too small, hat pulled down low to block the sun, cheek stuffed full of seeds, waiting on that pitch.  find a gap and  turn on the jets. testing every arm i come across.

Playing sick, playing hurt, running on 2 hours sleep 48 hours ago to finish a tourney.  Turning two while some Johnny Bad-Ass comes in high and late taking your legs clean out from under you. Nasty hops on shitty fields leaving seam marks under your eye. 


Shoeless Joe’s quote in Field of Dreams sums it up perfectly:

“like having part of me amputated. I've heard that old men wake up and scratch itchy legs that been dust for over fifty years. That was me. I'd wake up at night with the smell of the ball park in my nose, the cool of the grass on my feet...”

didn’t really appreciate that quote as a kid. but when i realized it was over, it hit me like a goddamn freight train falling from the clouds.  

Now, what doesn’t hurt most days is a shorter list that what does.  This old injuries come back to tell me hello regularly.  And i can remember exactly how most of them happened. Even down to the burning sensation a fresh strain/tear shoots at you.0

Can vividly remember gasping for air while literally crying from the pain of every attempted breath after tearing cartilage in my rib cage. 

needing to be helped off the field after getting my ankle destroyed by a baserunner. then hobbling my ass to the plate so my spot wouldn’t be the final out and collapsing when i got to first.

but i wouldn’t change a damn thing. i’d lace ‘em up RIGHT NOW and do it all over again if i could.


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  • 2 weeks later...
9 hours ago, paducahmichael said:

it's funny - as I grow older i really FEEL quotes like that one. They just become more meaningful and bittersweet. Some of those sweet memories are just too painful to relive.


im fortunate now in that i see a lot of myself in Short Kid. 

he just wants to be on the field. he wants the ball hit to him. he wants to be in the mound in crunch time. he wants to be at the plate with the game on the line. 

hurt, tired, sick, doesn’t matter. 

he hobbled his beat-up body out there and lays it all on the line. 

he started out as a stud. but other kids have soared past him in size and strength (which also elevated their games above his). but don’t tell him that. he still truly believes that he’s every bit as good as anyone else on that field. and will give up his entire body and soul to prove it to you. 

you might be him. but you gonna know you was in a battle before it’s over. 

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So, season update.  
Two leagues, one is competitive, the other is a beer league apparently. 

On Tuesdays, we're 2-0 and have outscored the competition something like 30-8.  Friday is a different animal altogether.  We got smoked in our first game, 14-4 or some crap.  Opposing SS had literally 13 assists.  We made him look like Jeter.

But...THIS Friday, it looked like a repeat.  Down 13-4 at one time, cut it to 13-5 with time running out.  They're batting with two outs, we have literally 33 secs on the clock. They get last bat. 
Dude hits a gapper, easy double, and we throw to third to keep him there.  Gets past the 3rd baseman, and dude decides it'll be more fun to get 3 out of it.  Never...EVER...make the last out at 3rd, dumbass.  I mean, he's literally jogging and kinda rubbing it in, 3rd baseman (NOT a thin athletic specimen) hustles his arse off and beats him to the bag by laying out diving and tagging him out...20 seconds left.  We hustle in and grab bats!

We score 9!  14-13 and they still have an at bat.  Get two quick outs, then they hit a double.  Next guy up hits it RIGHT to the LF, who's easily our most trustworthy outfielder.  I mean, he doesn't have to move.  I'm starting to walk off the field, ball hits his glove, falls to the ground.  Tie game.  UGH!!

Well we're in extras now.  Weird rule, in extras, we start with a 3-2 count!  One pitch is all you get.  You walk, you strike out, or you hit it and whatever happens happens.  So this is supposed to speed the game up, but 3 pitches in, we have the bases loaded...all "walks".  Next guy up can absolutely mash, and you guessed it...BOMB CITY!  We go on to score 10 on these chumps (and they were chumps, talking shyte all night).  Their "coach" ran out onto the field every time they hit a ball screaming "ALL NIGHT LONG".  Well, evidently not lol.  They finally had their turn, now down a 10 spot.  3 pitches, game over lol.  A groundout, a pop up, and the last guy watched his last pitch go right over the plate lol.  

Fun night, I'm so sore and for some reason decided to slide into third, road rash on my left leg is killing me!

On to Tuesday...the beer drinking league!

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