04/30/2007

Yesterday was Nick's season opener with the Bridgeway Men's Softball Team. For several weeks Nick had been pursued as a possible teammate by some of the church men. We made it very clear that Nick had NO previous softball experience. He had a general concept of the game's rules and, I added, was strong and athletically inclined, however, we could not promise he would be an asset to a softball team of any decent caliber. As it turns out, they are NOT a softball team of 'any decent caliber.' It had been quite a dry spell for the team; Wins seemed to elude them. They have lots of fun and 'talk big' (as though they all possess incredible skill which they could decide to 'turn on' at any time), but if the proof is in the pudding, they were lacking key ingredients.

Each Sunday night the team plays two games. They start at 6:30PM and end playing under the lights. They play against various local teams...all men, but not exclusively church teams. The atmosphere time-warps me back to countless games that my Dad played. The concession stands, the butt-smacking, the wounded and weary being bandaged up by their only fans (their wives), and the sounds of summer nights are all familiar to me...and I love it! Nick was apprehensive about playing, but was fitted with a glove and showered with encouragement. He warmed the dugout bench for the first game (which was just fine with him), but the team lost miserably and decided they could afford to try the 'new guy.' Somehow they finagled the system and allowed Nick to bat, but he didn't have to play outfield. Baby steps. It's a good plan.

Nick's first time at bat, I rounded up the busy toddler (who was playing with stray balls and enjoying the companionship of other church kids) and held him where we could watch Daddy. We held our breath as the pitch came toward home plate. I'm sure it all happened quickly, but it seemed to me to be in slow-motion. Daddy stared down that ball, readjusted his stance ever-so-slightly, and swung. I felt the solidity of that hit just as surely as I saw it. It was the perfect hit. It drove the ball swiftly and at that perfect line-drive height right between the second and third basemen and even managed to elude the shortstop. Nick was very safely on second base long before a fielder connected with his ball. Nathan and I were going crazy. "Yeah! Daddy, good hit! Good job, Daddy! Clap your hands, Nathan! (clapping and laughing) You're a regular Babe Ruth! Wooo-hoooo!" A repeat of this scene ensued when Nick made it home and got his run in for the team. Had there been any major league scouts in the stands, I'm quite sure Nick would have been recruited.

After that, Nick batted several more times. He had a base hit each time and never contributed to an out. And guess what? For the first time after a long season of drought, the Bridgeway Team won a game. They were, of course, insisting that Nick become a regular. Nick, feeling a surge of confidence, is considering becoming a permanent member of this team. That would be fine with me. I think there is almost no more enjoyable way to spend a warm night. For me, it is just downright nostalgic. My Dad would be jealous. You know, Dad, if you moved down near Houston, I know a softball team that would sure love to have you play. And, by the way, you wouldn't be the only man with grey hair on the team. These guys--young, old, skilled, and otherwise--they play because they love the game and they love being together. "Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!"