Softball Again

After last year's softball disaster, I elected to find a new team. My friend Drew was already playing on a different team, one that was far less competitive than my old team. He contacted his team's captain and he invited me to join his "Brew Crew."

We finally got to play our second night of the season last night. The weather has caused rainouts for nearly a month. I went with my brand-new ball bat and had planned an evening of me hitting some amazing shots.

Well, that didn't quite happen, but the number of hits I did get outnumbered the number of strike-outs... barely. My furry @$$ needs to get to the batting cage this week. Since I was a kid, my problem has always been keeping my eye on the ball. I've been told I have a lot of power, but I lack any discernible amount of control.

What feels so different is the team dynamics and even the entire feeling of the game. While we won both games last night, the guys in the outfield were CONSTANTLY being funny and catty to each other. The amount of sexual references and jokes in the dugout was a sexual harassment counselor's nightmare. And even our team's one straight guy seemed to take it in stride (boys, he's short, stocky, furry and gorgeous, but I'll never tell him that). I did flight attendant and Elvis impersonations while I was base coaching, and for some reason, Aerosmith's "Love in an Elevator" played in my head all night.

It feels very good to walk away from the field and remembering that it was a fun time instead of beating myself up for every little mistake I made. We all f**ked up at least once last night and no one got angry or made comment on it (unless it was a joke). A good time indeed, and I'm looking forward to more of them.

The mornings after those late games (like last night)... not so much... ow...