A Little Boys Game

I am fifty years old and I still play hardball baseball.  And I still love it.  I play in a 47 and older league (having moved up from 38 and over league).  Sometimes you are just glad to be able to run around and make it through a game unscathed.  Remember two years ago my little "incident".  I play all summer and then play for a week in Florida in November.  It is truly a blast.  The last two weeks have been something special because I have hit two bombs out of the ballpark.  Keep in mind that most fifty year olds are barely able to hit it out of the infield.  To hit it at least 380 feet was truly a rare feeling and then to do it two weeks in a row was really special.  I won't mention the other little dribblers I hit because the bomb is all you remember.  It is like when you hit that memorable golf shot that goes into the cup.  It doesn't matter what you did the rest of the round - it is what you remember.  Sports memories are like that - you do something special and it kind of is like a little pick me up.  So I am still that little kid who plays that little kids game and never grows up... and never wants to grow up.