Am I a kid or what?

I live near a park.  If you were to stand on my deck in the winter and look to your right you would clearly see a baseball field for adults.  In the summer, you can see the lights through the trees.

There is a game nearly every night.  In May and June the high school teams play here.  Then in the summer there are adult leagues, usually kids in their twenties.  And then there are nights when older players are out there. Last year, Doug Flutie, the former Boston College, New England Patriots, and Buffalo Bills quarterback was playing shortstop for one of the teams.  Flutie has got to be pushing 45.

Tonight, as I mentioned in an earlier blog, I had to give up my regular Thursday night doubles match because of a nagging injury. So, I was home when I usually would be swatting tennis balls at about 9:30.  I walked over to the field to see who was playing.

It was old guys. Several of the players had major league beer guts on them.  Tough to see how they could play. This is hardball not softball. It is a regulation field.  If it has been a while since you were on a regulation diamond go over to a local park and check it out sometime. The throw from third base and short stop is a long one.  As I watched a few outs of the game, I wondered if I could play with these guys, gimpy right leg and all.

After a fellow hit a slow roller to second and came back to the dugout near where I was standing he surprised me by saying hello.  Maybe it was because I was the lone, as in only, spectator watching the game.

If I am standing still, as I was, nobody can see my gimp. And, at the risk of sounding immodest, I am still in good shape. Do my situps and pushups daily. Go swimming or do the elliptical several times a week, and despite my horrendous eating habits, look relatively healthy.

At the end of the inning the third base coach came up to me and asked me how old I was.  I told him. He said there was a 55 and older league on Wednesday nights. This, what I was watching, was the 37 year and older league.  He suggested I come down next Wednesday and see if I could play for the Waltham Braves in this 55 and older league.

Now, I used to be a decent baseball player, but we are talking the Carter administration. Once, when I first moved here I played with a couple of kids in the park and took a few swings.  But that was it.

So, what do I do when this guy asks me if I want to see if I can play with the Waltham team.  Do I tell him, "hey buddy, I can barely walk back to my house." Do I say,  " I could not reach first base from third in less than three hops?"  Do I say, "If I ever hit the ball far enough for a double, I would need a cab to get to second base?"

No, I go back to my house and find my glove.

It needs some oil.  I figure if I oil it some it can be ready.  Next Wednesday, I will be unavailable, but the following one, I may try my luck with the Waltham Braves.  It looked like I could play with the 37 year olds. I could be DiMaggio with the 55 year olds.

Now, if I can only get out of my chair.