I've been a slow pitch softball pitcher since my early twenties, when I pitched and played intramural softball in college. By my count, I've been a softball pitcher for almost 40 years.
How many games have I pitched? A countless number of game in ball parks all over middle Tennessee, many of which no longer exist. West Park. Shelby Park. Fieldstone Farms. Granny White Park. Cain Ridge. East Park. Cleveland Street Park. Paragon Mills. I've pitched in intramural championship games, fraternity championship games, city championship games, and law league (Nashville Bar Association) championship games.
Yes, it's only slow pitch softball. For me, though, it's always been about the competition. Fun and camaraderie, yes, but also the competition. Without question, there's some ego involved for me, too, because I am a damn good softball pitcher and have been for many, many years. As I've aged and since we retired from playing city softball, I've taken pride in begin the best pitcher, year after year, in the Nashville Bar Association softball league.
As I've written in this space before, the law league in general and my teammates in particular, some of whom I have played with for three decades - are very important to me. For so many years in the midst of busy personal and professional lives and, yes, in times of misfortune and tragedy, I've taken the mound in East Park or, now, Cleveland Street Park, in May, June, and July to play softball and pitch against my fellow lawyers and assorted legal professionals. And, each year for close to 35 years, our season has culminated in the annual law league softball tournament.
My team and I have won the tournament several times including as recently as last season, when in a mildly controversial decision, we were awarded the championship after the final day of games was rained out two or three weekends in a row. We had the best season record, the best run differential, and were by far the best team. So, we got the title and I have the trophy in my office to prove it.
I've never been seriously injured pitching a softball either, until yesterday, at Cleveland Street Park.
In the semi-finals, playing against Hardin Law, I took a line drive in the face when a young stud - probably not a legal player - absolutely smoked a softball up the middle, head high. The ball was hit so hard, I never had a chance.
There were two outs and we were up 12 - 4, or something like that, and likely cruising to a matchup in the finals against the DA's, our rival the last couple of years. It's all kind of fuzzy but I believe I was stepping back after the pitch as the batter swung the bat. The ball was on me so fast that I didn't have time to react. All I saw was a blur of yellow streaking directly toward my face as I reflexively tried to block my face with the softball glove on my left hand.
As near as I can tell - and I've replayed this over and over again in my mind, even physically trying to reconstruct what happened - the softball deflected off the bottom of my glove and hit me in the chin first, then careened off my chest. After I was hit, I staggered backwards, spun, and fell on the ground. There was blood everywhere. I stood up, literally roaring in pain, anger, and fear, as I looked at my hands and left arm, covered in my blood.
I was livid, in part because earlier in the game, another ringer for Hardin Law also had crushed a line drive up the middle, head high. I got my glove up in front of my face and almost caught that one, although I think I may have broken the knuckle on the ring liner of my left hand in the process. I had the presence of mind to pick up the ball and throw the runner out at first base. He apologized, half heartedly, as I stared at him near the first base line after I threw him out.
Joe, sitting in the dugout, looked at me as I walked off the field toward him after the inning, and said, "that was too close, Dad." I nodded my head in agreement.
Then, an inning or two later, I got drilled in the face by another line drive. I was infuriated that a second player had hit a line drive right back at me.
Why? This is, after all, the law league. It's co-ed, with each team playing two females. Many of the players are older, like me (although, at 58, I'm one of the older players). It's competitive, sure, but not that competitive. To me, that's the problem with having a team full of ringers - they don't understand what the law league and and what it isn't. It's just about winning, for them.
I erupted in a fusillade of profanity as I pinwheeled around the infield, yelling at Hardin Law's players in the first base dugout. I knew I was hurt. I just didn't know how badly. All I knew was that there was a lot of blood.
I stormed off the field, foolishly banging (and hurting) my right hand as a slammed the gate open by the first base dugout and walked up the third base line, outside the field. I was trying to compose myself and take stock of my injury. Slowly, I realized that the blood was coming from a deep gash in my chin and that my teeth appeared to be intact, which was a slight relief.
When I looked back out toward the field, I saw that the teams had lined up near the first base dugout and were jawing at each other. I turned and began making my way through people back to the field, filled with anger and adrenaline. Someone from my team - Jack, I think - tried to stop me and I pushed him away and walked through the gate back onto the field.
I'm not sure what I was going to say or do but it wasn't going to be good. Thankfully, one of Hardin's players that I've gotten to know a little bit the last few years stopped me and assured me that the player who injured didn't do it on purpose. I knew that, at some level, but having one of his teammates provide that reassurance, at that point in time, calmed me. I found the batter, shook his hand, and gave him a hug.
To my surprise, my friend Matt, told me his team was forfeiting, because our friendship was more important than the game. It was one of the classiest gestures I've ever seen someone make on an athletic field that I was on. True sportsmanship.
I packed up my things, said goodbye to Jude and the boys, and drove to the emergency room at Centennial Hospital. Five hours later, I drove home with a negative CT scan (no fractures), seven stitches in my chin, and after a tetanus shot.
My enduring thought is that a guardian angel was looking out for me because I could have been injured so much worse. A couple of inches higher and I would have spent 12 hours in a dental chair, for example. My cheek or orbital socket could have been fractured. I could have been killed, and that's not an exaggeration.
The many text messages, e-mails, and telephone calls buoyed my spirits and reminded me how much I love my team and the law league.
In the end, my team brought home the 2nd place trophy after losing in the finals to the DA's, 16 - 14. If only. I made the all-tournament team, as did JP.
I think I earned the hardware. The hard way, by taking one on the chin.
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