Season opener

Hey sports fans, it is that time of year again...
We won the first game of the season last night in a crusher 10-3.

If you have ever followed this bloggy-here thing in the summer-ish months, you know how much I love this team. You also know that winning our first game... this is a big JOE$#&%BIDEN deal! Well, not really a big deal as in "we care so much about winning", but a big "it doesn't usually happen this way" kind of thing.

Last night there were a lot of unusual events aside from throwing one in the "W" column...
1) We fielded a team of 10 plus a designated hitter (without a problem)
2) Did I mention we won
3) It was the first time in about 10 years that there were more than 5 infant/toddler tykes running around (thanks to the birth of ML and the concurrent attendance of Jess, Web and Katy and me.)

When I started playing on this team, there were swarms of offspring out there every night. Back then, I was 30 (okay 60) lbs lighter and was the "next generation"...

I sat on the curb after games for 2 seasons before I took a beer out of the cooler caddy to avoid a "10-9" (that's the town ordnance for underage drinking.) Sadly, that's not even a lie... some of my teammates were friends of my parents and I didn't want any trouble for me or anyone else.

At that time it was all we could do to keep our heads in the game:

Nancy: Robert, keep your sister away from the dumpster.
Deb: WHERE'S FRANKIE?!?
Nancy2: Are the twins okay on this blanket?
Kim: They're fine, my kids will watch them.
Nancy: COURTNEY!!! GET OUT OF THE ROAD!
Me: (Trying to warn about the approaching line-drives to these mommies who were trying to play ball and keep their kids out of traffic.) TWO OUT, PEOPLE... THE PLAY IS AT FIRST OR SECOND BASE...

Oh yeah, i was all business. But only because I didn't want anyone to get hurt.

I distinctly remember one ice cream truck arrival in the middle of the 4th inning, bases loaded, 2 outs, the insane music vamps in a slow crescendo from somewhere in the distance and the kids start to revolt. one mom and then another and then a few more until we had no defense for a few minutes because everyone was scraping coins together for treats...

So here I am all these years later, and I just didn't see this coming. I remember thinking, "this is the way to do it" as I saw sisters and cousins and neighbors playing and raising their kids together... and I can't honestly say, "the years have flown by"; I mean, these have been long fought and hard won years of falling in love and working and family making...

But somehow, I am now one of the elders.

The original moms are the team "aunties", sisters and wives and cousins have joined and we have brought forth on this field a new generation of Play-yas... Between Jess's boys and our boys and my sister's girls, and Amber's daughter and am I missing anyone??? We have an entire gaggle of babies, all over again.

I hope the new girls (and by "new girls" I mean the young women who were kind enough to merge with our team a few years back to give us a shot at avoiding a 2 times-a-week ass-whooping with accompanying trips to the ER every other week) I hope they don't tire of our kids running around, swinging wiffle bats too close to the on deck circle; children whining when their moms have to go into the field; our little Boos- sometimes listening and playing the part of adorable bat-boy/girl, and sometimes, throwing a tantrum for no apparent reason.

I assure my younger teammates that if they stick with it, it will come back to them ten-fold b/c when they take their turns at child rearing, we will be here to pay it forward... or backward... or however it goes.

But until then, I hope they don't mind that I am sometimes going to shout, silly things from the field like, "YOUR COUSIN'S NOSE IS NOT FOR YOU TO PICK!!!" and they might sometimes here things like:
"DO NOT TAKE YOUR UNDERWEAR OFF!!! JUST SIT ON THE POTTY CHAIR AND PULL THEM BACK UP WHEN YOU ARE DONE." When I should instead be quietly backing up the shortstop at 2nd base...

I hope the "retired" but dedicated former members of the team don't hold it against us that they are not done chasing toddlers around this field... 2 decades later they are still scooping kids up out of the way and digging through their bags to pay the ice cream man.

I hope last night was not my mom's last visit to the field, because really, Nana is not afraid to tether herself to her grand kids... to the great benefit of both me AND my children .

And most importantly, I hope that I keep up this batting percentage (so far = 1.000; 4 times up; 3 hits; one walk) to compensate for my not-so-"lightening"-speed, for the fact that i seem to have "forgotten how to throw", and for the havoc that our "lifestyle choices" have reeked on my ability to concentrate on the team, the game, and the cooler caddy afterward.

Today, I am sore. But as usually happens the day after a game... I am feeling incredibly grateful for this group of women that I am lucky enough to call my friends.

PLAY BALL!