Of fastballs, curves and sinkers….

Baseball been berry berry good to me.

Baseball, or pitching/batting – very well likens life. Fastballs. Heat. Smokin’. When the goin’ is good. Amongst friends. Jubilation for one’s self, for a friend, for a loved one. Right down the middle. Perfect. A blazin’ fastball is akin to being in a situation where you think to yourself “I love it here, now…. it couldn’t get much better.”

We all have experienced fastballs… Some more than others.. Some, aplenty.. Some, not so much… but we all have…

Curveballs… Sneaky little devils.. Just when you start all that energy, motion, routineness forward – then it spins.. changes… job loss… divorce.. illness.. loss of a loved one.. financial setback… an aging parent.. pet..

Ya ain’t prepared for it.. while you know curveballs are part of the package of life – they still can mess one up.. momma’s two diddies of wisdom passed down: 1) The true key to success is how you react to plan B… A curve ball is the impetus to plan B. Reactions vary.. HOLY SHIT!.. Aha, NOT gonna fool me!.. Bring it on baby.. Can I sit this one out?.. Swing and a miss..

Oh, her second motherly diddy? Thought you’d never ask. “Finish everything you start.. except sex.” I guess ‘balk’ fits in the conversation today somewhere.

So curves.. How do we adapt? Some do so very easily, with no assistance.. with internal fortitude.. with the help of a loving mate.. Some go down swinging – fight it, struggle with it, cuss a bit, yet take on the game.. The “minor leagues” of life – or perhaps more appropriately – upbringing – help to prepare us. Some rise to the top.. Some wade thru mediocrity.. some fail.. (Pretend to hear the whistle of “The Good, the Bad, the Ugly” here.)

Sinkers. Much like curves, ceptin’ brings ya to the depths. There’s little positive to come of a sinker. Everything drops off the table. Severe depths. Again, fortitude, getting right back up, saying, “throw me that sonofabitch again you bastard” is a great approach.. Many though, throw in the towel. Give up. Mire thru the days, months, years.

Rectum there are other sound bites of baseball that relate to life. The single. Young couple’s first house. Double. Pay raise. New car. Triple. Titillation, braggadocios. Bunt single. Sneaky little basta – but gets away with it. Walk. The easy way out, yet, a positive. Hit by pitch. Fender bender. Cut. Burn. Fall.

Signals. Oh, so many. The eyes. The mouth. The text. The body signals.

Dugout humor. Onea my fav’s. The runnin’ buds.. Good humored makin’ kinda-sorta fun of another.

Texas Leaguer. I would say probably anything underwire with DD attached to it.

Rain out. Take the day off. Stuck inside. Gimme sun, pretty please.

Off day. Hell yeah. Weekends. A Holiday. Laziness. I ain’t doing squat today.

Home run. “Oh baby Oh baby.”

I, at age 56, am too GD (gosh darn) old to still be playing ball. Don’t care. Do. Will. Did. Have. Gonna. I love life, and I love baseball. No, don’t move like I usedta. Slowpitch. Ain’t gotta put up with, adapt to fastballs, curves, sinkers. I get to enjoy the dugout humor. (We play one hour, talk about it for four afterwords.)

There’s just something about having a glove and spikes in the car that I don’t wanna give up. I intend to play until I get to the point I’m a detriment to my team (or, until I pee my pants and forget my name.)

Being on the bench of life can be a bitch what with the fastballs, curves and sinkers. S’Ok. Baseball, and life, been berry berry good to me.

Hit ‘em where they ain’t. Love, Victurd.