Neither rain, nor sleet, nor gloom of night

First two we’ve been able to muddle through, on occasion, but the last one always has our number. As with a lot of the season, we were able to dodge some inclement weather, even though it left its mark on the field. The dam seemed to have burst around home plate, leaving a nice little swimming pool, a cement pond (without the cement). Few industrious fools grabbed a few empty Tim’s cups from the garbage and began bailing it out. Lastly, we once again brought in the big rake and buried what little water was left. Left us with a somewhat boggy infield, but made for a playable surface. On the other hand, first time the infield may have been soft enough to be comfortable underfoot.

Final night of play at Palmerston field as we make the switch to a better arena of play, at least one with lights. Perhaps we should take a few minutes to commemorate its loss, to mourn the hard and brittle surface (when it is not saturated by rain), the flood basin known as home plate, the dips and valleys of the outfield occasionally punctuated with the remains of an overfed canine. That, or a large bear. Time to put the location away until next season. As usual, we played, we won, we lost, we had fun (for the most part). We moved on. Night was designated ‘try to hit the pitcher’ night and the pitching screen may have saved more than a few lives. Perhaps not an official night but it did seem that way. Several line drives throughout both games struck the mark several times, some of them hard enoudgh to still make the outfield, making a few pitching experiences a wee bit traumatic. Luckily, everyone survived with the pitching screen suffering all the bruises. Pitchers are best reminded to stay on every hitter’s good side. Just in case. Not that it is ever intentional but always best to stack the odds in your favour.

One more regular season game to play and then we secure our positions for the playoffs. Pretty much decided on but we don’t really have a rotund lady to sing, so we don’t really know when it’s over. Okay, we might still know when it’s over, but that never stops us from going out swinging. And, time and time again, playoffs have proven that things can swing wildly out of control, going any which way the wind blows (or the darkness falls). It ain’t over until it’s over and without that lady to sing, we’ll never know. Until they turn out the lights. Then it's time to take your ball and go home. Gloom. Our arch-nemesis. Well, up there with rain. Not just an emotional state.

Gloom fell early. The first game, with the overhanging cloud cover, started out a wee bit dark with scattered periods of lightness. For the second game, the darkness persisted and quickly settled in to a prevailing lack of visibility, ending the game before it became too hazardous to play. Enough innings for a game, but not enough to stretch out the fun. Can’t outrace the setting sun, and when it’s gone, you may just pull yourself from the race, because the darkness always wins. Literally chase you off the field. That and the ump, who always maintains control, with our best interests at heart.

But twilight is no longer our concern. Next week we move to Country Lane and get to play under the lights. Gloom is no longer a concern and darkness is overcome by the artificial setting, instituted by the clever use of electricity and a few more than 100 watts of bulbs. We can even play full games without worries, other than our concern for our physical condition and our general lack of endurance. Now our only concern will be the rain and the sleet.