thirty-nine memories (30)

Memory #30: Softball at “The Campgrounds”

My dad played church league fast-pitch softball in a league of mostly Missionary Church teams on the back diamond at Prairie Camp. I remember the smell of mosquito repellent.

I also remember one night when my dad, who played right field, leaped high in the air near the fence to take away a homerun from some poor sucker. And the time he hit a long flyball that landed on the roof of the concession stand just beyond the rightfield fence for a homerun.

I got to play in some games with him by the time I turned fifteen. I wonder, what on earth would I do in the summer now if I hadn’t been introduced to this game when I was so young?

Last summer I played about fifty games. This summer, Lord willing, I’ll play in at least that many again. I’d play a hundred and fifty if I could.

This is no exaggeration: I think about playing fast-pitch softball every day. It’s a dying sport, and they haven’t played fast-pitch at the campgrounds for almost twenty years. But there was a day when the Wakarusa Missionary Church had no trouble fielding two fast-pitch teams in that league.

I guess people have a lot of tv to watch these days, instead.