The Senior League in Walnut Creek is called the Walnut Creakers (get it?).
We are in spring practice games now; this group has a long season; it goes
until the end of August. A lot of these old guys have to start slow, so
for the first month we just play practice games. Today my senior league team had a game on a field in a place called Rudgear Park.
Most of the games are in a complex of fields called Heather Farm, which has 6 fields and is also where the regular Walnut Creek league plays. But some of the games are at Rudgear Park, and I get all nostalgic there.This place has special meaning to me.
My original team, which we ultimately dubbed the Lyons (we started as a Chevron sponsored team but then started having post-game beer at a pub called Lyons Brewery) held practice here every Thursday more or less for about 15 years. We built our own field drag out of chicken wire and some left over 2X4s, and we eventually received permission to connect to the city's water supply to keep the infield watered in the dry months. Every practice, we dragged and watered the infield until it was perfect. After practice, we would stay until long after dark more often than not and drink our beer and talk into the night.
Most of us were starting families then, and we only played on the one team (it was before I became a total slut) - our Thursdays were really boys' night out more than the game nights, as we often brought our families on game nights. The friendships that were cemented on those nights remain strong to this day. The team played together for 26 years altogether, and two of us have now been playing together since the beginning (32 years and counting) and we still all get together for a Super Bowl Sunday practice and then watch the big game together.
One of our players, George, was somewhat of a gambler, he would vacation at Tahoe and gamble. He used to say when he hit it big he was going to buy Rudgear from the city and we would put lights on the field there. It would be just like in the movie. Shoeless Joe would probably come.
We played this team of bikers every week for much of that time - we were a rag tag team but we had some really great years of winning in our heyday. We played together really well, and knew each other so well. And every week we would beat the other team, which was called the Silver Bullets. It didn't matter how far behind we got, or who was missing that week, we always had their number. This must have gone on for 4 or 5 years. Until one Thursday they finally, finally broke through and beat us. They never came back. I'll bet they made a pact to do that early on - it must have been frustrating for them.
At the time, we would occasionally hear about this team named the Creakers that practiced and played there. They were just a few 'old guys' that played during the day! Who knew that one day it would turn into an entire league and I would be one of them!
Today, I played left field in the 4th or 5th inning. When I went out there through the swamp behind third base, I knew for sure where I was - Rudgear with the bad drainage behind first and third, and the grass too long, and the bad hops on the infield (we called any bad hop anywhere a Rudgear Hop) - it was like being home.
In the old days there were horses in the adjoining yard behind the fence behind the third base bench. We would lock our drag to the fence there. The lock is long gone, and yet no one has touched it. Yes, the drag is still there, and so am I.
Most of the games are in a complex of fields called Heather Farm, which has 6 fields and is also where the regular Walnut Creek league plays. But some of the games are at Rudgear Park, and I get all nostalgic there.This place has special meaning to me.
My original team, which we ultimately dubbed the Lyons (we started as a Chevron sponsored team but then started having post-game beer at a pub called Lyons Brewery) held practice here every Thursday more or less for about 15 years. We built our own field drag out of chicken wire and some left over 2X4s, and we eventually received permission to connect to the city's water supply to keep the infield watered in the dry months. Every practice, we dragged and watered the infield until it was perfect. After practice, we would stay until long after dark more often than not and drink our beer and talk into the night.
Most of us were starting families then, and we only played on the one team (it was before I became a total slut) - our Thursdays were really boys' night out more than the game nights, as we often brought our families on game nights. The friendships that were cemented on those nights remain strong to this day. The team played together for 26 years altogether, and two of us have now been playing together since the beginning (32 years and counting) and we still all get together for a Super Bowl Sunday practice and then watch the big game together.
One of our players, George, was somewhat of a gambler, he would vacation at Tahoe and gamble. He used to say when he hit it big he was going to buy Rudgear from the city and we would put lights on the field there. It would be just like in the movie. Shoeless Joe would probably come.
We played this team of bikers every week for much of that time - we were a rag tag team but we had some really great years of winning in our heyday. We played together really well, and knew each other so well. And every week we would beat the other team, which was called the Silver Bullets. It didn't matter how far behind we got, or who was missing that week, we always had their number. This must have gone on for 4 or 5 years. Until one Thursday they finally, finally broke through and beat us. They never came back. I'll bet they made a pact to do that early on - it must have been frustrating for them.
At the time, we would occasionally hear about this team named the Creakers that practiced and played there. They were just a few 'old guys' that played during the day! Who knew that one day it would turn into an entire league and I would be one of them!
Today, I played left field in the 4th or 5th inning. When I went out there through the swamp behind third base, I knew for sure where I was - Rudgear with the bad drainage behind first and third, and the grass too long, and the bad hops on the infield (we called any bad hop anywhere a Rudgear Hop) - it was like being home.
In the old days there were horses in the adjoining yard behind the fence behind the third base bench. We would lock our drag to the fence there. The lock is long gone, and yet no one has touched it. Yes, the drag is still there, and so am I.
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