Some things never change

TOTS Senior Baseball Network

60-an-over baseball

Baseball is sill a big part of my life.

On a typical weekday morning in Tucson sixty years ago, I woke up as the rays of the sun broke  through my bedroom window. I was all of nine years old with one thought on my mind for the day: play baseball.

I knew where to go to find a game. The only question I had in my head: Would there by enough players or would it be another game of workups -- you know the game, a pitcher, a couple of infielders and maybe an outfielder or two?

Chances are the gathering of players -- some younger and some older -- didn't have the luxury of a catcher behind the plate, which made it tough on the batter -- especially if he was to foul off the pitch. More times than not there was just one ball...maybe two, lose one or both and we'd be in trouble.

There was no club ball -- only Little League, but "sandlot" ball was every day. A quick bowl of Wheaties and it was off to the local park for a day of baseball. Sure, my parents tried their hardest to get me involved in other things -- playing the clarinet, trying out for the Tucson Boys Chorus and dancing at something called Tucson Junior Assembly where you learned how to hold a knife and a fork, be pleasant to the opposite sex and, of course, dance the foxtrot.

I, by the way, threw the clarinet in the closet and I couldn't sing, period. I did learn how to dance and I can hold a fork and a knife with the best of them, but it was baseball that held my interest day in and day out.

So, after a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice, I was off to the ball park, equipped with my Louisville Slugger and my freshly-oiled mitt. I'd be the first player at the field. I'd sit in the bleachers and I'd eye every street, awaiting for someone to show up. I'd smile as the players arrived...one, two, three, four...and sometimes more, and suddenly, the hours would fly by.

There were no batting cages, no ex-pro on hand to give instructions...just the fellas, the ball and the bat.

Some things never change.

This morning I woke up. For a few minutes, I listened to the birds sing outside my bedroom window and then I slowly got out of bed, My neck ached, my back ached, but I seemed to be intact. My 69-year-old body was up for the day.

I quickly made myself a bowl of cereal and poured myself a glass of orange juice. I kept an eye on the clock. In less than an hour I'd be at the ball park...awaiting my teammates and another morning of baseball with the 60-and-over Tucson Old Timers.

In less than an hour I'd be in the dugout with my eye on the parking lot. Soon they would come, one after another...10...20 or more. They'd all grab their bat bags and head for the field at Udall Park...another day of baseball.

Yep! Some things never change.

Photo: The author, a member of the TOTS.