Last night I celebrated the last softball game of the season with my team, Sol Equinox. The weather couldn’t have been better as the evening was on the other side of being too hot, but hadn’t gotten to the stage where extra layers were needed. An unexpected one-to-one tie was soon to be tilted in favor of my Sol Sisters team.
Our fans resided in the away team’s bleacher-side as usual, demonstrating comradery on and off the field.
Young and old were in attendance. High spirits. Good Moods. Playing for the sake of playing where winning wasn’t at the top of the list.
Every year, the team comes together like a jigsaw puzzle. Different abilities, different levels of competition. Some players come in with previous softball experience, even fast-pitch. Others not a stitch. Chronologically, I’m guessing there was at least a forty-year spectrum between the eldest and youngest on the team, though when it comes to playing ball, everyone becomes ageless in the quest to have fun, win games, and rise to the occasion, making that play that would live in a player’s mind for infinity.
Some of my team members and I go a few season back and a friendship has been forged in winning and losing seasons, in injuries, and in returns.
This year’s team would go on to win the championship out of four teams, losing just one game.
Being at a softball is like being at a three-ring circus. It’s impossible for me to not look around and see the people, and of course the dogs.
And the kids. Can’t leave out the future players and fans. I’m lucky to have been teammate’s with one of Gus’s moms for more than the three years that he’s been toddling around.
Unfortunately, I missed Emily’s incredible catch as she leapt into the air, and according to her testimony, she jumped the highest she’s ever gone to make a career-best catch at third base. I was busy chatting, commiserating over our injured knees, the only reason I was behind a camera and the fence rather than being on the field.
Taking pictures at a softball game isn’t that much different than playing the game. It’s all a matter of being at the right place at the right time, concentrating on that not so little yellow ball and hoping that it makes it into the proverbial mitt.
In this case, I don’t know if the ball is leaving or returning to the infield. Was she one of our eight runs? I like the notion of being able to defy gravity and suspend time, to see things that I didn’t really see before while snapping as many pictures as possible. I have enough pictures to do another blog, giving you a break from my garden reports.
At least I was on hand to take a team picture. I’m wondering if any of my shots came out.