Guytown

The nights I spend with the boys alone are few and far between.  In years past, before the pandemic and when Jude had a different job, Jude occasionally traveled out of town for a few days at a time.  When she was gone, I always joked that the boys and I were in "Guytown."  

Things are different in Guytown.  Different bedtimes, different ideas about dinner, different morning routines, etc.  You know, Guytown.

Yesterday, Jude left in the morning for an overnight work trip.  Strategic planning, long range planning, leadership team meeting, or some such.  I was excited because it meant the boys and I would take a quick, overnight trip to Guytown.  A quick trip because she's due back in town late this afternoon.

I had a mediation yesterday - one of my own cases - and after it settled about 5:45 p.m., I hurried home.  On the way, I ordered takeout for the boys from the Grilled Cheeserie in Hillsboro Village.  When I arrived home, I rushed in, got ready for my softball game, and the three of us rushed out the door a few minutes later.  After picking up their dinner, it was off the Cleveland Street Park for my first Nashville Bar Association softball game of the season.

I was looking forward to playing because it's been almost two years since I've seen some of my teammates, our umpires, and other players in the league.  With a huge grin on my face and a bandanna on my head (as has been my tradition for more than 25 years), I hopped out of my truck when we arrived at Cleveland Street Park.  Leroy, Gary, and Fitzy - our umpires forever - couldn't believe how big the boys had gotten.  Sometimes, I can't believe it either.

Our team - the Russians (old story) - played our oldest rival and defending league champions, the Independents.  For me, the game had it all.  I fouled out their best hitter in the first inning.  I bantered with the other team and the umpires as I pitched (normal for me).  I drove in a run with a single to left field but grounded out twice (also normal for me).  I got in a heated argument with Gary, who was the home plate umpire, over whether our last run scored before our player was tagged out a third base (very normal for me).  In the end, we lost 12 - 11, in what was an enjoyable and entertaining game.

Afterwards, I apologized to Gary for yelling at him and admitted he made the right call (all too normal for me).  Then, I had a beer with Leroy and a few of my teammates, just like the old day.  Quint, my teammate and the son of my former teammate, Worrick (that's how old I am), gave the boys some lessons on how to throw a changeup.  It was like old times.

The boys and I stayed up a bit late watching the NBA playoffs.  This morning, I made them breakfast, and we watched Sportscenter.  While I got dressed, Joe played a few of his favorite Tom Petty songs on Alexa, which always starts my mornings off right.  The fact that Joe loves Tom Petty like I love Tom Petty never ceases to amaze me.  It's a bond we share and always will, I suppose.

I drove them to basketball camp at Belmont, in the new practice facility, about three blocks from our house, then dropped them off.  A pitch perfect morning. 

I love my time with the boys in Guytown.