6-12-11 Sunday Afternoon

Nick is filling in tomorrow night on a 20-something co-ed softball team tomorrow night in a double-header because they are short on players. He thought it might be a good idea to warm-up, seeing as he hasn't played softball in oh, 7 years or more now. And that was baseball.

Of course, it's been pretty much since the 90s since I've played softball, although I do recall helping out with Sammi's softball practices, but not batting or pitching.

It took a good bit of rummaging to come up with the glove, but I eventually found it. There are woven friendship bracelets tied inside the webbing that I made from high school. But this beauty is much older than that.

I've owned glove since I was 11. That means it is going to turn 30 this year.

Like the headstones from yesterday's hike, it bears long-faded names. There were at least four, but only two survive enough to be able to make them out.

On the wrist is Denny Walling, #29.

On the pinkie finger is Deacon Jones who was in his last year coaching for the Astros in 1982.

Nolan Ryan and J.R. Richards were pitching, Alan Ashby was catcher, Phil Garner, Art Howe, Craig Reynolds were the big names I remember at infield, and Jose Cruuuuuuuuuuzzzzz was in outfield. And they all wore the happening orange rainbow uniforms.

The Gulf signs still adorned the scoreboard.

And the logo on the cups (one of which I still have -- plastic with the logo in blue, a souvenir from a game) looked like this:

I was the tomboyish little girl standing among all the boys, waiting early before the game, before the stands had started to fill, waiting patiently and hoping some of the players would come over and sign my glove. Tucked away downstairs is my baseball collection, which I haven't thought about in many years. Makes me want to go rummaging around some more to find them now.

So, anyway, this blog started out about our fun softball afternoon, so I'll leave you with a clip from my turn in the outfield, when Nick was pitching to Sammi.

When we pulled back into the drive, Binks was hanging out keeping an eye on the birds for us.

And after that, it was time to throw the ball for the pups.

Between pitching, batting, and throwing, unfortunately my left elbow is now killing me. Feels like there is not a lick of cartilage left. I've got it on ice now, and every time I reach for something or try to write, it reminds me to get back to the ice pack.

But it was totally worth it ;)