Softball

I'm dowstairs in my chair, having one last beer before I go to bed, feeling a bit melancholy, yet satisfied, as I contemplate another Nashville Bar Association softball tournament championship for Riley, Warnock & Jacobson, the team on which my friends and I have played for several seasons.  We'd lost the last year or two to Boult, Cummins (a.k.a. Bradley, Arant), so it was nice to get another title.

This year, for once, we stayed in the winner's bracket, as a result of which we only had to play one game yesterday and two today to win the tournament.  Actually, today we defeated (twice) Manier, Herod (the law firm where I worked for 4 + years, fresh out of law school) - once in the winner's bracket finals and then, a second time in the finals.  I'm not in the mood for a detailed breakdown of our tournament games, though I will say it was nice to see the oldest team in the league get the bats cranked up. 

Our coach and my friend - Chris Vlahos - determined that the average age on our team is slightly over 40.  Not too surprising, when you figure Richard Smith is 50+, Benton Patton is 47 or 48, John Rolfe is 47 or 48, I'm 45.  These are the kinds of things you talk about, over beers, after the softball tournament.  Especially when you win.

There was a moment, a snapshot moment, after we won when J.P. and I were alone on the field.  I held the bat in his hands and we hit a softball together, then he took off to run the bases.  The sun was setting behind him as he rounded second base and I watched him from home plate.  Behind me, Jude was talking quietly to my friend and teammate, Derek Hughey.  Some of my other teammates stood on the sidewalk, drinking beer and laughing.  I paused for a second, then realized for me, it doesn't get much better than that.  Sharing softball and my friends with my wife and son, on a field where I've played softball for twenty years.

J.P. loves and I mean loves going to my softball games.  Watching him run the bases afterwards brings me an enormous amount of pride.  It's touching, too, because I realize in a few years (even if I'm still playing), he won't care that much about seeing his old man on the softball field.  To have these times to share with him now makes me feel loved and blessed, far more than I deserve.