A friendly game of softball remains a great pastime and is environmentally friendly. We called friends for a five gal-five guy just enough to field the bases, a pitcher and a catcher for a Friday evening multiple date. We might have learned the sport in elementary school or earlier, but all of us were out of practice; most of us hadn’t played for at least five years and some as many as fifteen or twenty years.
We dug our old gloves from storage, rounded up a couple of bats (not one of has had a lucky bat or cared about weight, length or balance) and two scuffed regulation size softballs. Dare we play gals against guys? You bet.
My honey pitched for his team and when it was my turn to bat he motioned for his team to move closer. No way had he expected me to hit a homer. I admit I’d have bet against me even getting a hit. His first pitch was slow and gentle. “Strike One!”
He gave me every chance to hit an easy ball, but the timing threw me off. “Just pitch as if I were a guy.”
He held the bridge of his nose. My guess is he was considering the wisdom of striking me out. He made up his mind; this would only be the second strike anyway. He threw a fast ball; he’d never played softball only baseball. I swung and nicked it, a foul ball popped up in the air backwards and hit the backboard. The catcher missed it. I wasn’t out, just “Strike Two!”
I didn’t care about statistics, I’d at least connected bat to ball. He pitched and I hit the ball just hard enough toward left field to run and touch safe on first base. We played until we called the game because of darkness. The guys won bragging rights. Like any other game there was some good game butt slapping and a stolen kiss or two. We love old-fashioned dating because we had fun without damaging our budget or the environment.
THE END
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