That could have hurt

It was a balmy 15 degrees out on the field, sometimes more, sometimes less, interjected with a gathering of overcast skies. Cloudy, yet dry, touched off by a completely unnecessary wind chill. Typical June weather. Who knew Mother nature could be such a damn tease (polite way of saying 'what a b'). Still, a beautiful evening for ball or just moving about in any fashion, keeping the blood circulating, keeping the body warm. To be honest, a damn bitter evening, best for curling up in front of a roaring fire, but we chose to take the field and play some ball. Either we love the game or we’re just nuts. Probably a mixed bag. Every handful something different. Or at least a surprise. Always good to leave them guessing.

First game was a bit sketchy to start, with a noticeable absence of players, but just enough materialized to fulfill the obligations of a game, enough to meet the minimal requirements, to fill the required spots on the field. Lot of hits permeated the game at the start, a few even between the bat and ball. The players on the field seemed to be using their head a lot (no thinking involved) as well as other body parts to field the ball. Everywhere else, it seemed, other than resorting to using the glove conveniently placed on one of your hands. Some must have assumed the glove was for warmth and not catching, but quickly learned the error of their ways when 'accidentally' struck by a throw or a hit. Others simply became the victim of errant throws, heavy on the errant, light on the throw. Thankfully, no permanent injury was incurred. Hopefully, but it’s always hard to perceive if there was any brain damage, although it would be a good excuse for some of us. Only time will tell and we already have that age thing working against us. Perhaps a few light knocks to the noggin will work to our advantage. Can’t hurt…well I guess it can. Best if we all keep up on our meds or at least keep a stash handy. A few innings of that nonsense and players once again resorted to the glove for catching, as well as throwing less at people’s cranial appendage, allowing the game to proceed pretty much as it should, with a number of hits, a number of runs, one team winning, one team losing, no players being carried off on a stretcher. Even if some gave it their best attempt.

Less hitting (of people) in the second game, the usual up and down affair, a close game, but the same result. A number of hits, a number of runs, one team winning, one team losing, no players being carried off on a stretcher. Again, there were attempts and the complaints of aches and pains might have warranted some medication. Unsure if it was due to age, pre-conceived injury or the unnatural cold of the evening bringing on the old rheumatiz, but there were a few obvious issues with players bending over to pick up those grounders. Perhaps not the bending over part, but the attempt to get back up into a standing position after the fact, while still trying to make the play. Although funny for others in the execution, probably best to avoid the personal discomfort. And, if it only hurts when you laugh, you’re definitely on the wrong field at the wrong time, even if it is with the right people. However, everyone was a trooper and struggled through it, competing the game, pushing off the pain, even though they may be destined to feel it the next day, after an evening of immobility, after time to allow those muscles to retract, stiffen up and make getting up in the morning a misadventure. No worries, you have a week to recover, a week before you have to drag yourself out on the field and go through it all again. And, if you don’t drag yourself out next week, keep in mind, some of us know where you live (at least let your captain know).

So, all said and done, we either love the game or we’re just nuts. Probably a mixed bag…wait, enough! Probably best not to add repeating one’s self to the list (it will come on its own, in time).

Passionate or crazy. Or, perhaps, it is just that we enjoy each other’s company, can’t wait to see each other, intermingle and have the opportunity to trounce each other on the field. Some sort of deep longing for companionship or perhaps just gluttons for punishment. You always hurt the ones you love. Either way, it still appears to be some fine damn fun. Best not to overthink it too much and just go with the flow. All the while trying to avoid serious injury, of course.