They say it is the love of the game --
a way to stay active in a stalagmite world --
a refusal to allow hip surgeons to define
the good life.
If I didn't play baseball, they say.
I would be watching daytime TV,
or belching a beer on my bib.
They take another cut at an imaginary ball,
and hide a wince. Damned arthritis, they think,
is all that stands between them and a Texas line-drive
halfway to Texas.
They are TOTs: Tucson Old Timers
They play baseball. Something like Toys-R-US
with grownup toys.
The bylaws says you have to be sixty, but their
secret is that they are kids playing a grown-up game.
When the bat is too heavy and the ball is too hard.
They are peanut brittle in a caramel world.
They are the tots of summer, boys forever,
finally able to afford the time it takes to break
into a run.
Note: The above written by a true TOTS' fan -- an observation in the bleachers by Conrad Royksund, a wonderful human being who loves life...and baseball. Read more from his blog at www.smokesound.blogspot.com
Photo credit: Taken by Conrad Royksund prior to a TOTS dress-out game at Tucson Udall Park.
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