It was 1990, almost 20 years ago. My oldest brother was coaching a men’s slow pitch team, and I was a senior in high school. He asked me to show up for one of his make-up games on a Friday night. Being a Friday night, the older guys on the team didn’t want to play. I never did much on Fridays so I agreed to show up. I don’t remember much of that first game, except showing up and thinking everyone was so old (you know older than 25). My brother asked if I wanted to play outfield. I remember laughing and saying sure, even though I only played infield my entire baseball career since I was 7. When I agreed to play, never in my wildest dreams did I think that slow pitch softball would affect my life in so many ways.
Every time I step onto the field I feel a sense of calmness and excitement. Win or lose, I strive for a goal and there is always someone there supporting me. People admired me, wanted to be like me, wanted me around more. I would see people actually go above and beyond themselves, go that extra mile, be inspired because of my play. It gave me confidence, wanting more in life, making me realize never to settle or give up.
Since that first team in Shepard, I have played on many other teams. They were all fun in their own way. One of the first ones that had an impact on my life was my first year in Sanford, for Drywall Unlimited. I was 21 (that`s right, legal drinking age) and recently married. I played once a week and what seemed like every weekend of the summer. It just started with a couple of drinks after the game, then the next thing I knew I was hanging out with the guys until dawn. I always wanted my new wife to come watch me play, but she always seemed to have something else to do. This in turn, led to arguments. I guess not really arguments, but disappointments. We started not to care about what the other one did. In the end, she cheated on me and in a way I blame myself. By playing too much ball I wasn’t there for her, and we grew apart.
Not all leagues turned out bad though. One of my favorite league games taught me to never give up. When you make a team goal, you can do the unthinkable. The other team, Irish’s, was having an undefeated season and was going to win first place in league, unless my team beat them. It was highly unlikely because we stunk, like an unwashed pair of old gym socks that your dad gave you for a keepsake. We had only two wins all year. I remember getting there, thinking I hoped the other team would make it quick and painless. Everyone was there and then our coach showed up. We joked that we thought he gave up on us. He just exploded on us, screaming whatever came to his mind. We all looked at him like he was nuts. He said he was just kidding and he was just tired of losing. Then he stuck his hand out, and we all gathered around. One of the leaders at that time was my brother Troy. He spoke up, “NOBODY RESPECTS US, THEY THINK WE ARE LOSERS! WE ARE NOT LOSERS ARE WE?” I never heard the whole team yell so loud, like they did that day “NO!” Troy responded “let’s get are respect back.” He said 1, 2, 3 and all at once the team screamed “?&%$`em!” Everyone, even the other team thought we were a little extreme. As a team, we were so pumped and goal oriented. The whole world seemed to stand still. For those few hours, all of reality was gone. We weren’t perfect that game, but when one of us made a mistake, it seemed like two of us would make a great play. No matter how many runs the other team scored, we never gave up. We ended up playing extra innings. In the bottom of the inning, I got my chance. Being down by one and with two guys on base, I hit a gap shot to right- center. Everything seemed a blur, Like Mom calling me for dinner, I ran as fast as I could. I stood on third watching the runner in front of me score the winning run. My whole team came running out, yelling and screaming. Right then and there I felt alive and a sense of belonging. Two weeks later, we became district champs (6-0). I didn’t realize until later that on the ball field and life, no matter what your goals are, you can`t reach them without some kind of help from others.
The next three or four years passed with me always looking forward to spring so I could escape from reality once again. Reality hit me hard when I agreed to get married again. Before I married this girl I had warned her, she would hate me when spring came. She looked at me a little confused as I explained to her I was a diehard softball player. She just shrugged and said whatever. If she only knew how serious I was about playing, we might have never of got married. We were married early that spring, and ball was right around the corner. Two months later, she filed for divorce and when ball season ended, we got back together. For the first five years, this routine was happening every other year. I finally came to realize that I might have a problem. Our sixth year together was better. I went from playing 40 plus games a year to playing 15. I was happy, but something was missing. I lost my drive. I felt no passion for anything. Well, two long years went by, and I felt like a stranger in my own life. I knew something was missing, but every time I tried to talk to my wife, she gave me no sympathy and snapped, telling me nobody was always happy with their life and I should just get over it.
Those couple of years I went to work, came home, went to work, came home and that was my life. I let her take control of everything. I was willing to change everything about myself to save the loveless marriage I was in. Even when I was playing ball, I showed no excitement. The thrill was gone. I could care less if I let my team down. It seemed like every game someone was asking me if I was OK, and if I needed to talk they were there. Another spring was on its way and my wife said I should just quit ball altogether. I thought about it, for about 30 seconds. I exploded and just tore into her, saying I would never give it up completely, ever!
That softball year I played 75 plus games, the most fun I had in 10 years. The next year we were divorced. Again ball had a part in it, but this time it was a good thing in disguise. I realized you need to be happy within yourself or you can’t make anyone happy around you. You both need to support each other in whatever you do. You need the same likes and dislikes. If you don’t have these things, you can pretend to be happy together, but in the end you both will strike out.
Over those 10 years, I couldn’t seem to even get a hit in my relationship, though that never stopped me from going above and beyond on the ball field. In the second year, I played for Parson family flooring. We were two games away from being undefeated. I was having a good game when I slid into second base. I caught the corner of the bag with my foot and heard a snap. It immediately swelled, but luckily we only play seven innings in softball and it was already the fifth. It was a close game, and there was no way I was coming out. I got back to the dugout and slowly made my way to the bleachers. Making sure the umpire didn’t see I popped a pain killer and downed a beer, took a deep breath and finished the game as the catcher. We won that game, and I woke up the next day with my foot almost black. I had a cast put on and a big blue walking boot over that. I showed up the following week dressed in my uniform ready to play, cast and all. One of my teammates looked at me shaking his head and at the same time said “You are such a die-hard.” Coach wanted to know if I could still bat. He would get me a runner when I got on first. I remember saying Hell yea with a big grin on my face. I went three for four that game, and we went undefeated for the season. Even with a broken foot, the team wanted me there. It made me feel complete. Nothing would stop me from playing. Nothing!
I never thought I would play any other softball besides men’s slow-pitch. But I was asked to coach a co-ed team. I coached two teams that year. I never realized how good girls could be at slow-pitch, though there were girls and guys that weren’t that good, but they were all having fun. I never knew there were girls that liked ball as much as me. Two of the girls played on both of the teams. Neither one was really good, but they liked to play. I remember this one, she was sociable, liked to stay after and hang out, and every time I looked at her she was smiling at me. She had light brown eyes that took you in and made you feel two feet off the ground. We started talking, and I found out her name was Connie. When we talked, I found out we had a lot in common. It was almost instantly that I knew I wanted to have a relationship with her. Springtime came, and I wondered if my ball playing would scare her away. It didn’t. She was there every game supporting me. I was enjoying my life again. The next year I played ball, but I didn’t feel the need to play.
Now that I reflect on softball and how it made me who I am today, I realize it wasn’t the softball game I was searching for. It was the feeling of being a part of something that made me feel I could accomplish anything. I wanted someone to believe in me and the ideas I believed in. I used to look forward to every spring to play ball, but now I look forward to going home to Connie. I now know that softball was just a replacement for what I was missing in a relationship. I now have closeness, support and fulfillment in a relationship, for the first time in my life I feel truly loved. GAME ON!