Another year older and deeper in the batter's box

 From the desk of Dan Price

Baseball and Life...another year older and deeper in the batter's box

The grizzly old codger steps to the plate one more time…his bones are creaking…his knees are weak…his eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but he has done it before…the same thing over and over again.

There will be another pitch coming his way...and that’s all he can ask for at the age of 78.

The senior citizen has only so many pitches coming his or her way. They have fouled off their share of pitches over the years — they’ve been hit with curve balls and maybe an occasional fastball that has blindsided them, and they have hit the dirt, dusted themselves off, and returned to the batter’s box.

Yes, I’m using my at-bats as a way of explaining the ups and downs of life.

Probably James Earl Jones said it best in the baseball movie Field of Dreams, as he convinces Ray not to sell the farm.

“The one constant through all the years…has been baseball.”

In my case, it may have been, but in real life, we all get to take our cuts. How we connect with what has been thrown at us and continue to make our path forward, down the highway we have selected, is up to us.

No life umpire can call balls and strikes for us.

Only some people are meant to hit home runs, too.

We are all such a diverse group. Many, many walks of life amongst us. That’s the beauty of it all. We all step to the plate and take our cuts, follow our dreams…seek new goals, and yet we succeed or fail on our own time.

When I claw my way out of bed in the morning, I’ll head for the ball field one more time. Luckily, I’ll have no need to turn up the hearing aids. So far, I’ve avoided that particular disability.

Chances are the only music that’ll filter through my noggin’ is when I tune in the 60s channel later in the day and listen to tunes from my era — back when the pitches were coming fast and furious, at a time when my life was just getting started.

It was so easy to adjust back then. Our armor was on tight. No dents had accumulated on our protective gear…always remaining shiny from one day to the next.

But now we are senior citizens. At least, the majority of the readers who visit my Senior Center are.

Many of my friends were born in the 1940s, and their minds float backward to those Happy Days …back in the 1960s. Why that is, I do not know? I would have loved to have grown up in the 40s, too…maybe even the roaring 20s.

If I had the opportunity, I’d go back in time. Michael J. Fox, where are you?

I'd hop on board if given a chance to be a time traveler.

I would take that pitch for sure…and another…and another.

Many years ago, I remembered sitting on the hood of my car on top of A Mountain, eyeing the Tucson sunset behind me, followed by the twinkling of the city lights toward the east as nighttime appeared across the valley. Fifty-seven years of sunrises have come and gone since I was a 21-year-old. A lot has happened.

I’ve lost my share of friends and relatives…and teammates. Being a senior citizen allows you to step back from the plate at times, reflect…remember…recall…and covet what has come and gone.

There are still some sunrises and sunsets left to witness.

That alone is music to my ears.