Never give up

 From the desk of Pigpen Price

Thinking ahead...

Follow along with me as I allow a nano-robot to cruise through my body -- searching for answers as to why, at the age of 102,  I can't ever play baseball again.

OK. So, I'm getting too far into the future. Let's go back a year (we will jump back to 2048 in a moment).

Its 2019,  I have just returned from a 25-minute journey into a "black hole" -- better known as an MRI, the well-known three letters which stand for magnetic resonance imaging.

Thirty million people take the short journey every year -- all searching for answers to a medical problem or, in my case, looking for results as to why I can't throw a baseball across the diamond with out bouncing it to a fidgety first baseman, who would rather I throw a bullet, chest high.

The nano-robot is coming.

Chances are my teammates on the 60-and-over Tucson Old Timers have already penciled me in as a right fielder with an asterisk by my name on the lineup card, signifying this player needs a bathroom break every now and then.

As for now, I'm dealing with a neck injury and the next step comes next Monday when I see a neurosurgeon to go over the "findings" of my journey through the black hole.

Fast forward to Monday and the neurosurgeon shows me the MRI. Is that really me? It looks like somebody is playing checkers in my body and has no idea how to play the game. The scary images are dark, but to be honest with you, the inner body is mind boggling. The whole thing is way above my pay grade. Wait a minute! I do not have a pay grade. I've been on social security for 13 years.

To be honest with you, the report on my neck injury isn't pretty. I could be facing...well, life away from the baseball field. In jeopardy: my 12-year run at the MSBL World Series, a prestigious event which comes around every October for more than 3,000 amateur baseball players from all over the country who are as crazy about baseball as I am.

Closer to home, I already miss being with the "guys" on Monday, Wednesday and Friday at Udall Park. On those days, every week, year in year out, the 60-and-over Tucson Old Timers play the game of baseball.

It's simply the best gig in town for an old timer who loves to play America's favorite pastime.

My closest friends and family members say it is time to hang up my baseball shoes for good. After all, my injury list is as long as a weekly grocery list -- hand surgery, foot surgery, eye surgery and a heart attack -- not to mention the menacing hamstring tears, bone spur problems, you name it...I have experienced it.

But to be honest with you, so has many of my teammates on the Tucson Old Timers.

Thinking back, even further to January 2, 2008...

Today I dressed for work, pulled out of the driveway, stopped at the local donut shop and chugged down a cup of coffee. A typical start to my morning. I arrived at work on time and prepared for another day as a State of Arizona employee.

By mid-morning, I was having chest pains and having a hard time breathing. I slumped to the floor and pushed my back up against the wall. Everyone came running and someone dialed 911. I was 62 years old and having a heart attack.

A week later, I was looking out the hospital window at the University Medical Center, a new member of the "zipper" society, fresh off of quadruple-bypass surgery. After a four-month recovery, I was back on the ball field. It wasn't easy at first. I couldn't walk to the mailbox, drive, or even think about exercising for the first few months, but gradually I gained my weight back (I had dropped about 25 pounds) and I got my strength back.

I've pretty much followed the doctor's orders all these years. I take my medicine, keep my weight down and hit the ball field three to four days a week. I could hit the gym more this year. I'm a little lazy with the gym workouts.

But all in all, a successful 13 years.

I'm heading for the ball field this morning. If I'm lucky enough to get a hit and reach first base, I'll take my lead off and if the ball is hit in the gap, I'll put on the after-burners (just kidding about the after-burners) and go from first to third.

I'll step on the base, look up and smile and say, "Thank You, Lord."

Bottom line: Never give up.

After a few visits with the neurosurgeon, some physical therapy and a few shots in the neck, the doctor says: "You might as well continue to play. Let's face it, You're an old man with an old neck."

So, if your "heart" is still ticking and you still have a passion for the game, or for whatever you are passionate about in your life, I say: "Go for it!"

Photo: Pigpen heading for the ball field in 2021.