My Sunday……….

Color it nice. Like Victor, who cares?

I know, but I might as well type/blog about it.

It started with a trip to the Piggly Wiggly (limited funds………….. RUN ANYONE STOPPING BY HERE FOR THE FIRST TIME ON MYSPACE FOR A POTENTIAL DATE… there’s a NASTY rumor afloat he’ll run outta 401K funds by the time he’s 60.) Yeah, prolly, but, then again, I think I can start ‘drawing” at fitty-nine interest free, so you better back that sucka up!

Games 15 and 16 on the softball schedule. Mind you, we’re 1 and 14. That’s one win, fourteen tries. Game time, 3pm, we’re talking hot. As in 90-something.

“Hey Vic” the head dude chief honcho/umpire chimed “tell ur guys I gotta cooler fulla water and Gatorade back here”…….. Thanks Billy! Will do.

We’d already prepped in right field, a couple of beers, some stretching, lotta talk about who was gonna show, who wasn’t, and the amplifications therein… The more that show, the moreya getta sit the bench. “Orville”, I’ll rotate with you at catcher.. “Cool?”… “Beautiful Vic.” Phew, I was set.

The opponents, a groupa stallions, most wearing some fancy T-shirt “Western Football.”.. “UAAASA Softball National Finals”… There wasn’t a 34+ inch belly among ‘em. Flatbellies, I hate flatbellies.

So I’m batting 12th, outta 13, which, for being the oldest on the team, reckon that ain’t that bad. First few innings, we swap runs back and forth… 9-7, 5th inning, them. Guy in fronta me gets a hit, I close my eyes and wrap a single… suddenly, tied. .

We bit it 10-9, but it was a moral victory, and inspitea the heat, one game left for our season. One chance at redemption..

“Ballgame” ump said after we were retired in the 6th, game 1. So, they stayed in the field, we simply kept our batting order going where we left off.

I’d gone one for two in game one, which, to me means, I’m still walking, moving, not at Liberty Hospital, not a Pop-atTop Liquor buying beer for team (ya haveta whenya strike out).. And lo and behold, I was actually batting 4th this game.

We took an early lead… mebbe 6-2, when I'd came to bat the 2nd time… I hit a weak, measly ground ball to the right side (The swing I took had “2nd baseman, if you go for this, it’s gonna rip the glove right offa your palm”)… but then it dribbled.. Slowly… just beyond the readh of the first baseman, just beyond the dive of the 2nd baseman. A seeing-eye single, yet a hit nonetheless. They all look like lasers in the scorebook.

Long about this time, my good friend Tom was on second. Base hit, left field. Tom, fitty, hoofed it toward 3rd… “GO GO GO” coach said, so Tom kept on’a keeping on and left fielders throw was right on target, ceptin the target was Tom. Un huh, mid-lower-back. Kidney area. Ker-plunk. Thud. “Yeooooowwww” he wanted to say, but said nothing. Touched the plate, usn’s now in front 8-3..

For the next two innings, I was CNA to my friend Tom. I held the ice on toppa the welt that’d formed on his lower back. As Tom started to pass out, due to combined heat, shock of wound, and whatever else… I said to self “Oh shit”… found a 7" x 14" inch towel, soaked it in cold water, placed upon Tom’s forehead.

Whew. He remembered my name. Pale, but still talking.

S’more doubles. S’more base running by dudes who forgot they were fitty, took, the extra bases, forced the extra throw.. We’re up by 6, 13-7.

“I’m not batting any more” Tom deducted. By now, we’d taped an ice pack across his back, he was ‘taken care of.’ Wife, by now, by his side. Friend in right field had said “Tom’s not playing, u better git ur ass up there and see if he’s ok.” Was, but still, huge ass welt.

One more at bat. The 16th game. The final. My goals were: not embarrass myself (check), not to strike out (check), not to end up in ER (check) and to not be a liability (eh, I was 3 for 4 thus far, so, so far so good.)

I hit a measly grounder to first. It was an easy out, the last play I was involved in Summer 2008. I ran my hardest, but I was easily out before I even reached halfway.

We won. Handily. After finishing 2nd (of 8) last year, we’d now won our second game of the finished 16-game season.

Yet…………. We were happy.

One’a the teams had agreed to cook meat for all’a the teams.. The resta us agreed to bring sides. (I’d found sweet corn on sale at the Piggly Wiggly.. Did that up.. I did ok.)…

Good eats. Good friends. Transition made from cleats to sandals… There was a rumor afloat “We’d worried about you getting home last week” so I behaved this week. Drank a beer, sat without for like 30 minutes. Was all good. Absorbed, took it all in. Nice. It was nice.

But I had a blast. Good sport, good eats, good friends. Could it be any better? (And we won.)

I had a couple (and way too much food) and thanked the dudes :”Hey, being the oldest on the team, I’m HELLA appreciative of you allowing me to play.” Vic, we’ve enjoyed having you.

Music to my ears. I don’t think they were lyin’. Every time someone scored, got an awesome hit, made a spec-tac play in the field, I’d set a goal of being the first one there awaiting a high-five (or low-fist, whateverinthehell they call it nowadays.)

Bottomline. Fun. As in I had.

After the 3rd week, I ddn’t even think about the GD impants. (If you’re here for the first time, that’s back like 60-70 blogs ago.) It was all natural again.

Blessed I am, I’ve been. If this was El Boro, sorry. Guess you’da had to been there. I was. And I was delighted in the day.

Take me out to the ballgame. Love, Victurd.