As we age, many of us find ourselves participating in adult sporting leagues. Whether it be men’s league basketball, co-ed dodgeball, or a softball league, we all have our niche. I grew up a mediocre basketball player, but this summer things changed. I joined a fisherman’s softball league. This league is for blue-collar workers, and I didn’t realize how good these guys are. I was told this was going to be a chill Sunday at the park, some of these dudes are hitting dingers over the fence. When I agreed to join this team, I figured I might be an average player. It turns out I’m the worst. Here’s my story of being the real-life “Squints” on my slowpitch softball team.
Strike One
In the first game of the season, I still had hope about my softball prowess. I may have missed a couple of pop flies in the outfield, but pretty much everyone did in the opener.
The difference is that these guys had baseball experience. Before the first game, I met the other “new guy” on the team, and we briefly exchanged words. He asked me about my playing experience, and I responded I was “pretty good as a kid”, and then, remembering to be humble, I clarified I was “alright as a kid.”
I then asked him about his playing days, and he responded, “He played a little college ball.”
I consider myself a decent enough athlete compared to the average person, but baseball requires repetition. It’s not easy reading a flyball in the outfield.
It’s also challenging to get on base if you’re not hitting the ball hard consistently. In the first game of the season, I got on base twice but only because of errors by fielders. The other team also proved rusty in the opener.
It’s not like I miss the ball every time. I hit a lot of groundouts to second base while my teammates hit line drives. I could pass as a crappy hitter.
I realized in the first game that I wouldn’t be one of the better players this season.
Strike Two
As the season progressed, my skill level did not.
After a sad two games in right field, Buddy Robert had to move me to catcher, where I was just a glorified umpire in slowpitch.
At least this way, we could cover up my fielding insufficiencies.
My skill level at the plate has remained pedestrian, with me reaching base every once in a while, usually due to some error.
There was a game where I hit two line drives up the middle, but they were both snagged by the pitcher. The following outing, I reached base on a perfectly placed infield hit that dribbled down the third base line. I was trying to hit a sac fly.
I did have one highlight play this season. Amid mediocrity, I found my wits in one moment.
In the bottom of the seventh inning with a runner on first down one run, I came up to bat. I was already 0-4 on the day and was looking for a walk. The count ran to 3-1, and I thought it might get a base on balls. Then the pitcher threw another strike.
With a 3-2 count, the pitcher lofted the easiest pitch toward the plate, knowing I was going to ground out to second again. I swung because I had no other choice, and hit a double to right/center field, all but securing the victory for our squad.
It’s the only time I’ve hit the ball out of the infield this season.
Strike Three
The playoffs start up this week for my team, and I will be nowhere on the roster unless they need a pinch runner.
This season has been a humbling experience, but also a blast.
I hadn’t played baseball/softball since I was a kid, and there’s something different about the sport.
It feels like there’s a zen associated with the game that’s lacking in other sports.
Swinging the bat is helping me reconnect with my childhood, a part of my childhood that I didn’t know I was seeking.
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