After getting a hit (I'm now 10-for-24 on the season) and making two good plays on screaming line drives hit at me at third, I let TWO groundballs get past me which, eventually, let the opponent tie tonight's game up. We lost in extra innings.
I also tagged a guy out at third who -- I swear -- came up at me mid-air with his spikes and spiked me just above the belt. The ump was going to throw him out of the game (I found out later) but I held onto the ball (like Carlton Fisk, or something) and he was out, anyway. Needless to say, the ol' body is pretty banged up AGAIN tonight. Injuries and miscues. Why do I do this to myself? Driving home, I wanted to put my fist through a brick wall -- all because of a softball game.
What is so frustrating about playing is that I am now starting to feel old and play that way. Oh, I 'm sure by the end of the season (a month away) I'll FINALLY be back in shape and playing like I used to, but everytime I mess up I wanna go, "Yeah, but you shoulda seen me back in '92? Dude, I could bring it..." But NOT playing regularly for several years can really affect your skills. To quote Todd Rundgren, "My mind knows what it wants but my body just lets me down." I AM getting into better shape, and I think that if I play every year, I'll eventually get REALLY good again.
Baseball (and now slow-pitch softball) are PASSIONS of mine, and to struggle to do something I love REALLY drives me crazy. I hate pride.
Posted by colrus at June 2, 2004 03:00 AM | TrackBackIt's hell, getting old. Brian can attest to the fact that I used to be somewhat of a soccer stud back in my more svelt and agile youth. I played soccer from 1975 until 1992, the year my world ended. I was in a car accident that ended my soccer playing days for good with a torn meniscus, condramalasia, and a Baker's cyst under the right patella. Needless to say there was not a lot of mobility for some time. Since the accident, I have lost a goodly amount of hair, gained nearly 60 pounds and gotten very, very old. I know how to make all the moves. I can remember the feeling and the touch to put on the ball to make it bend and stall and do all the things I want it to do. I still have vision for the game and can watch any game, in person or broadcast, and know the strategies needed to play one team against another. But I can't play anymore. Disregard the fact that my knee pops out if I run too much or put weight down on it in the wrong way. Disregard the additional weight I have gained as a result of decreased metabolic rate and increased sedentary lifestyle. Disregard all my former ability and current knowledge. I can't play anymore. It hurts too much going down on a tackle. I'm sore for days now when I get done doing manual labor for more than a few hours. It's painful to move on days when the barometer rises or drops too quickly. I get stiff in places I didn't know I had... all because I have gotten old. Had I known then what I know now, I would have taken better care of myself. I punished my body as a kid, and now it's his turn to repay me in spades. Bill, from one aging athelete to another,and in the words of Slick Willy, I feel your pain. But you know, once I resolved myself to the fact that I couldn't play anymore, it stopped bothering me. Besides, I have kids now and I can always coach. I'm actually looking forward to foisting my delusions of stardom on my children and living vicariously through their successes. Besides, isn't that what real parenting is all about. :)
Posted by: Chuck Echenique at June 2, 2004 08:51 AMDon't worry bill, I still think you're the cat's pajamas, when it comes to soft or hard baseball.
Posted by: holton at June 2, 2004 09:14 PMPlease tell me I didn't just get a POP-UP when I entered this site. You wouldn't do that, would you?
Posted by: podge at June 3, 2004 10:43 AM