Ready for the Big League

I sure wish I could be on my daughter's softball team. I honestly think I could kick all those girls' butts.

That wasn't my attitude 30 years ago, back when it mattered. In those days I was making a terribly feeble attempt at playing Little League baseball. I was so bad I would often leave the bench colder instead of warmer.

I have very few memories of my baseball days, and unfortunately most of those memories are from really humiliating experiences. I believe it was my very first practice ever when I got bonked on the head by a fly ball. And things went downhill pretty far from there.

My coach's name was Zab. Who the heck names a person "Zab?" On the few occasions Zab would let me play on the actual field, he'd stick me way out in the outfield where I could do the least harm. If the rules had permitted it, he would have positioned me out on the other side of the fence so my sole responsibility would be to retrieve home runs from underneath cars.

I was certainly no better at batting, either. My uncle was a coach for one of the other teams, and I can vividly remember him telling his players to move in closer when I stepped up to bat. Apparently I didn't exactly strike fear into their hearts.

Things are different now, though. I think I'd actually enjoy playing in some sort of league now. I think I'd stack up especially well against a group of 10-year-old girls. Even against the really good 10-year-old girls.

Mrs. Smoot, Little Smoot and I practiced at a park last night, and I had to actually restrain myself from hitting the ball too hard for fear that I would hit one of our cars. I was worried about that, and the fact that I almost drilled a ball straight through Mrs. Smoot's chest the last time we practiced together.

If I ever invent a time machine, I'm keeping my current playing abilities, and I'm going to go back to 1980 to teach Zab a thing or two. I'll aim for his car, for starters.

Pictured below, the fabulous Reds of 1980. Zab is the coach on the left; I'm the second person from the left in the middle row. It's rather surprising I remembered to show up for the picture in uniform.