Senior citizens playing softball. What is it about baseball (or its derivatives) that draws us so. It's a kid's game, played out on sandlots, backyards and school grounds from kindergarten northwards. Bases made from an old shingle or even a brick and ground rules involving windows or stonewalls. I can remember 3rd grade, playing baseball behind Center School and cheering the shot off the bat of my friend Bobby or Billy or Sammy. I remember that in those days my team was the Brooklyn Dodgers, Duke Snyder, Gil Hodges and Pee Wee Reese. And I remember how brokenhearted I was to find out that they moved to the west coast, someplace called Chavez Ravine. Instant Yankee fan. They were great days for Yankee fans too, Mickey Mantle, Moose Skowron, Phil Rizzuto, Roger Maris, Whitey Ford.
Now I'm well past 60 and I'm still cheering for Bobby, Billy and Sammy not to mention the Reggies, Jimmys, and Donnys. 66 years old and I call my friends names like we're in third grade. I love it. A lifetime of infield fly rules, sliding into third and double plays and I still know my friends best as Freddie, Johnny, and Denny; Kids names, third grade names, and why not. It's baseball, it's a kids game and I wouldn't miss a Tuesday or a Friday playing ball with my friends (still kids), unless it's rained out of course.
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