
Today I made my triumphant return to the diamond after having retired from little league at the ripe old age of 16. I joined a softball league and just this week was assigned to a team. We played a double header in the brutal heat and humidity of a Georgia summer.
We got our asses handed to us on a platter. Twice.
I wasn’t terrible, but definitely rusty. And throwing a 12" slow-pitch ball is a lot harder than 10" fastpitch ball that I’ve been used to throwing with my kid sister. (And, when I say throwing with my kid sister, I mean ducking from her brutal fastall.)
In the first game, I went 0-2. Reached on a 5-3 fielder’s choice on my first at bat; reached second on an error on a fly ball to center, eventually coming in to score on my second at bat; popping up to short on my third at bat.
In the second game, I went 1-1, singling to left and taking second on a throwing error. The second game was cut short because our pitcher got nailed in the head with a line drive.
I got this sliding into second:
It was a lot of fun, though.
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