I'm possibly getting older than I realize. Last night became the final softball game of the summer for me. The team we played legitimately beat us. They had a bunch of hits against our stellar pitcher. They deserved to win. But when I came up last night with two outs and the tying run on first in a 5-3 game, I had the game on my shoulders. Not too long ago, that would have meant a run, perhaps two. I'd refuse to make an out in that situation and drive the ball down a line or in a gap. Last night, however, after getting up to a 2-2 count, I struck out on a pitcher's pitch: high in the zone, over the plate and hard to hit. Not my pitch, but with two strikes I couldn't afford to take the chance the ump would call it a ball. The second K of the season for me.
I'm not sure what will come of softball next year. Even though I don't play as often as I did last year, this commitment is still difficult. Work promises to be wose next year. I enjoy playing, but I don't know that I can do it at the level I expect of myself. My bat speed is slow for modified softball. My fielding is fine, but I'm definitely an infielder these days. I can't gun the ball from an outfield position like I did a decade ago.
Luckily, I don't have to make that decision now.
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