As I've written many times before, the Nashville Bar Association softball league is special to me. I've played in the league for almost 30 years. Manier, Herod; Cox, LeVan, Sprader & Patton; Bowen, Riley, Warnock & Jacobson; and Riley, Warnock & Jacobson.
Somehow, this season, we've become "the Russians," a nickname Duane Barrett and I gave the team, while we drank beer together, a lifetime ago.
On my team and on other teams in the league, so many friends and teammates have come and gone. Earlier this season, I played against Dickinson Wright (formerly Stewart, Estes & Donnell) and only recognized one player on their entire team. It's like that on almost every team we play.
Somehow, at age 55, I've ended up as the last man standing. Other than my teammate and longtime friend, John Rolfe, and Independents' stalwarts Gary Rubenstein and Eula, there aren't many - or any - players who have been played in the NBA softball league as long as I have.
Last night, in the second game of the tournament, we played Hardin Law, one of our rivals of recent times. All good guys on their team, including Bill Porth, whom I went to high school with. Billy and I have been playing softball against each other for years. Their team was down a few players, as was our team. Vacations, Covid-19, etc.
J.P. and Joe were at the game, which always is big for me. It means a lot to have them there, in the dugout, at an age where they can follow and enjoy the game, and interact with my teammates. It's also important to me for them to see me, at age 55, competing, and stepping on the mound to pitch with the confidence of someone who has been doing it at a high level for more than three decades. I also like them to see me, in my element, talking, laughing, and hugging players on my team and on other teams.
Vanity on my part? A little but also, I want them to see the importance of working hard to build relationships that last over time and the enjoyment and friendships that are forged in the process.
Our team took an early lead but Hardin Law closed the gap late and, in the bottom of the last inning, we were up 12-10. It was slightly past 8 p.m. and almost dark because, for some reason, Metro Parks refuses to repair the lights not he fields at Cleveland Street Park.
The first batter, a woman, grounded out to shortstop. The next batter hit a ball to my right. I backhanded the ball, bobbled it slightly, then whirled and fired it to first. I thought we had the guy by half a step but Gary called him safe. Gary was hustling down the line to get a good look at the play, so I couldn't complain, although the consensus was that he missed the call. The last batter in the lineup, a woman, made an out.
Good news? Two outs. Bad news? Leadoff hitter coming up. As always, the game turned on where the teams were in the lineup during their last at bats.
The leadoff hitter and second got base hits. The third batter hit a double, scoring one run, leaving runners at second and third. Our lead was cut in half to 12-11. Two outs. A base hit wins the game for Hardin Law.
My teammates, especially the infielders, wanted me to walk the batter to set up a force at any base. I thought about it but quickly decided I was going to pitch to the cleanup hitter. The on deck batter was an old school, hulking softball player. He had gotten a base hit every time he batted earlier in the game. Looking at him in the on deck circle, I knew he - like me - had seen it all on the softball field. I knew he wouldn't try to do too much if he batted with the bases loaded. He would lace a base hit to left field and the game would be over.
The cleanup hitter was younger and less experienced. He might - just might - be a little nervous. He might press and try to crush the ball, as opposed to base hitting me. I liked my chances with him.
Our third baseman, John Wilks, looked right at me and said, "Newman, you want to walk this guy?" "No," I replied, emphatically. "I can't get the guy behind him out."
I took a deep breath, stared in at the cleanup hitter in the fading light, and threw his a first pitch knuckle ball. Sure enough, he took a massive swing and lines a hard grounder right back at me. I gloved it, turned toward first base, and threw the ball to Derek Hughey.
Game over.
As Hughey caught the ball from me, John Wilks yelled "Neeewwwmannnn!" My teammates and I congratulated each other with a little more enthusiasm than normal, enjoying our improbable win. J.P. and Joe jogged out onto the field to congratulate me. Adrenaline flowing, I made the rounds, clapping teammates on the back and giving high fives.
One softball game in a line of hundreds, maybe more than a thousand, softball games in my lifetime. Still, a memorable softball game. I showed my boys - and I showed myself - that I can still spin it at age 55. And that's something - for me, anyway.
After the game, I dropped the boys off and drove two Burger Up to get a takeout salad. As I sat at the bar and sipped an Uncle Val's (gin) and tonic, I savored the victory, texting with several of my teammates. It as a moment of quiet satisfaction, one I want to remember.
I don't know how many more years I have playing softball in the law league. Maybe a few. Maybe several. But I'll remember last night's game after I'm done.
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