#10

he sent this picture to me via his iPod touch,
all decked out in his brand new uniform.

last summer, when i was on maternity leave (oh, what a glorious time), we spent quite a few weeks in Pennsylvania. the pool was there, my parents were there (to dote on and help with their only grandchild) and it was just nice to be out of the city. anyway, we went on almost-daily walks, to a nearby park that didn't exist when i was growing up there, but i sure wish it did. a big soccer field, playground equipment, a trail through the woods and three baseball diamonds.

most days we were there, so were a gaggle of old dudes playing softball. god bless 'em—whether it was 70 degrees or 90 degrees, they'd be out there every morning, in their uniform shirts, playing an official game. i loved those guys. they were like the Bad News Bears, all growed up. you could almost whoever was at bat praying not to get a hit, because that would mean they'd have to run to first base and oy, the toll that would take on their knees/hips/back.

fast forward to two months ago. my dad called me to triumphantly announce that he had gone to sign up for the senior softball league. this was some of the best news i'd heard ever. my dad has been rocking retirement for sure—between his garden railroad project, finally using his Kindle (much to my chagrin), the weekly trips he makes with my mom to play with Matty all day, and DVR'ing every show on every channel every day, he's kept quite busy. still, as i watched those guys playing softball last summer, i thought—and probably said out loud several times—that my dad would be an awesome addition to the league.

and now—he's in! today was his first team meeting and next week is his first practice. and, lemme tell you—senior softball is no joke. they play, like, 60 games over six months. it's practically the majors!

i wish i was going to be on maternity leave this summer so that i could take daily walks and watch him play. (partly to cheer for him and partly, you know, to laugh at him. good naturedly.) i actually wish i could send a camera crew to film the practices and games, because i have a feeling it would make a great documentary.

i told him he should start a blog and record all the funniness that is bound to come from a bunch of geezers trying to play softball. but he hates to type (hates) so i'm not holding my breath. however, i do think he should submit to me entries (however brief!) that i can post every few weeks, summarizing his experience thus far. don't you agree? if you agree, leave a comment saying so. perhaps we can gang up on him and make it happen.

until then—play ball, daddy-o! give 'em hell! just don't give yourself a broken hip in the process...

mbm