The Theory of Relativity

Last Tuesday was Opening Day of the 2012 Walnut Creek 'Creakers' season. The Creakers are, as the title suggests, a large group of old, older and oldest softball players. They range from 50 to over 80 years old.

The Creakers started (I think) in the 1980s as a group of older players who used to scrimmage on my own old Field of Dreams, Rudgear Park. As stated in the Field of Dreams post, we heard rumors of those players then, but they remained faceless for me until a couple of years ago when I was laid off at my latest dysfunctional company, and for a couple of years now I have been pretending I too am retired .

The Creakers thrived over the last two decades - Up to last year they numbered three levels of leagues, American (highest), National (middle), and Continental (or tongue in cheek, Incontinental, apologies to all parties involved, especially when I get to that later stage of my development).

Last year the American League players, who mostly are retired tournament players, decided to bolt from the ranks of the Creakers to hold their own scrimmages twice a week on turf fields at Sycamore Park in Danville. There were politics involved, and I will avoid them for now. Personally, I returned to the Creakers this year because I like being on a team more than I need to play at the highest level with the best players. I love competition, and being competitive, but part of that is the thrill of a pennant race, no matter what the level.

This is all background; I hope you are still awake.

The purpose of this diatribe, if you will, is what happens when you join the ranks of the 'Seniors'.

Your softball 'career' goes through many ups and downs and stages as you mature, if that is what you do and on some cases I am not sure. But even if you don't mature, you certainly age. And there is only one end to that line - eventually you will have to give up the field at some point, you just hope it is as close to the end of your life as possible. They will indeed have to drag me off the field kicking and screaming.

Everybody is different, and everybody ages differently, and a large part of continuing to play is avoiding catastrophic injury. I found that for me there have so far been three distinct eras in my softball life. The first is when you are in your twenties - you think damn, I should have kept up with baseball in high school or college or tried out for the pros - I am just so damn good. This stage lasts roughly until you are in your mid 30s. In my case, this fantasy was tempered by the fact that I gave up baseball the first time I saw a curve ball in junior high school. I avoided that whole mess until I was reborn and re-discovered softball when I was 27.

Then one day when you are about 35 you realize you don't quite get to all the balls you once did. You are a step slower to first. That pulled hammy takes an extra week to heal. This is the first crisis stage.

Here is how you overcome it. You tell yourself, well damn I was never gonna make it to the pros anyway so I will just become the best damn hitter slow pitch softball ever saw. And this works for a while. And then you say, well I am just in it for the post game beer anyway.

The second crisis occurs sometime in the next decade. Now not only do your injuries take longer to heal, they occur more often, and more easily. This puts a lot of players out for good. I remember my friend George, who was about 5 years older than me, when I was about 47 and he was about 52 and hanging it up. He said "Heff, just wait til you are my age. You will see that is is just too hard."

Well some of us are just too stupid to learn to quit.

And you discover - aha! If I actually stretch before games, and maybe even work out a little in the off-season, I can avoid some of those injuries. Is that why those professional trainers and the physical therapists get paid. Who knew what they did!

And I discovered one more thing, especially on defense: you can use your more mature mind to focus a little more and a little better and anticipate the ball when it comes toward you. This gives you back the step you lost! Hooray!

Then the 50s hit you. Like a line drive to the forehead. Because no matter how much you fool yourself (and even those that are in much better shape than me face this), you just can't do what you once did, and you can't compensate for it with your mind because now it is also beginning to age as well. Hell, sometimes you can't even remember how many outs there are! You wonder, well what do I do now?

And then you find Senior Ball. And Senior Bats. And playing against other seniors. Who are just as slow and banged up as you are. And even better - now that you are playing against other guys in their 50s and 60s and even 70s, You Are The YOUNG GUY. Suddenly you are leading off, because you are faster (OK at least as fast) as most of them and you get on base more than ever before.

This is because first of all with bat technology what it is today, they make these super bat models that are only legal for old guys like you. The ball just jumps off the bat, and the grounder that you hit square has a much better chance of scooting through the infield. It doesn't hurt that the guy you hit it two feet to the right of can't bend over either.

And the line drive you hit has that extra zing to carry over the infielder's head. And the gapper, oh the gapper, it is beyond their reach before they can react.

One time my friends Joe and Gerry watched me play a game in my first year in the Creakers' National League, where they made me pay my dues in the first year. I hit a legitimate shot down the right field line, beyond the right fielder almost to the fence. The way they described it was thus: "Heffe is running around the bases like a madman, and the fielder is chasing the ball, but it all looks like slow motion." I got a home run on that shot, and I don't care how slow it was, it stands that way in the score book.

Some day, I too may be in the Continental League. And I will be lucky to be there. And I will have a damn good time then too. In diapers if I have to.