Dave.....

Long, long ago... overhand softball.. onea the nicest teammates I've ever had: Dave. You could tell from Dave's build, athletic looks, he'd "been there" (ie, skilled, at one time).. but this was the dawn of his career.. routine fly balls became blooper reels.. swings that usedta SMACK, now whiffed. Racing toward a base now became very awkward, interrupted, jumbled, stumbled.

I wondered, to myself, WHY... why does he keep playing? No one ever said a terse word -and when good did happen, he was maybe verbally overcompensated....

Now.. I completely understand. Elvis, and any athletic skills I've ever had, have left the building.

"You'll never get that GD (gosh darn) glove off my hand! My skills will come back" I lie to myself. I HATE the bleachers, the bench, watching from beyond the fence in right field. I've had way, way, WAY too much fun in this endeavor.

Please Dandy Don... DON'T sing it! "Turn out the lights... the party's over."

I have a torn calf muscle. To walk more than a city block, I'm in writhing pain. I am blessed in that I can read the newspaper- and see the words without extending my arms, backing up toward Excelsior Springs - or wearing onea the many $1 readers I usedta own. I now see dang near perfectly. Ceptin', having eye lens implants where one eye is for close up, the other for long distance - plays hell on trying to judge a fly ball, catching a line drive whistling at your noggin a hunnerd MPH off an illegal bat. And (our secret) I'm old.

I wanna put my glove on my bike's handlebars, ride to the City Park and play Indian ball with Clay, Mouse & Sanford. I wanna go the Franklin and hear Dump Weston holler one more time "Strrrriiikkeee THREE... UR OUTTA THERE!".. Run across the street after the game to Mugs Up for an ice cold root beer. Coach is buying. I wanna go swimming after the game at the Balsinger's pool.

I wanna go play American Legion ball again in farm towns - where the stands are fulla townfolk, and the lights beam thru scadillions of flying bugs. I wanna wear metal cleats.. I want to remember what it's like to slide headfirst and get baseball chalk up my nostrils.

I wanna argue with an ump... hit a line drive... see someone making a great catch and get to run in from the outfield to slap a high five on them.. I wanna be a part of another walk off..

I wanna go where the women watch in their summertime attire. VICTOR! Sorry... kinda.

I wanna go back to overhand fastpitch, where we, and Philadelphia were the only cities in the US playing. I wanna, just one more time, play for the City Championship. Ok, so it was B Division, who cares!

I wanna travel to places with my slowpitch cohorts, lifelong friends. Play two games, have a three hour break, and the break was just as damn fun (if not more) than the games. I wanna sit in lawnchair and talk, for 6 hours about the 3 hours we just played.

I wanna yell out nicknames again.. Delbert... Gibby.. Tork.. Bass Arm.. Barney... Mose.. Toad.. Spike.. Rat... Mack.. Bones...

I wanna go to Macken.. Mid-America.. so many fields, hell I've forgotten their names and prolly couldn't even drive to 'em..

I wanna fly with my Eastern Airline coworkers to play in Airline Tourneys in Atlanta, Vegas, Phoenix, Dallas - again.

Now, however, I am Dave. Base'aballs been berry berry good to me.

I wonder how much a golf membership is at Cardinal Hill? Love, Daveturd.