Snap, Creak, Popup

The little signs of my increasing age are hard to miss: something snapping when I bend over to pick up 3B, something else creaking when I lift him up, and nothing being worth leaving the house for after 9 p.m.–especially not something that starts at 9 p.m., as our weekly city league softball game did tonight. But rather than stay at home and knit an afghan while watching Golden Girls reruns and waiting for my AARP card to arrive, I decided to go to the game.

And it was worth every sore muscle–or is that one a tendon? ligament? is that one connected to anything?–that I’m feeling now, and that will stiffen up like cured fiberglass tomorrow.

For once, either we were brilliant, or we were matched against a team that is as desperately bad as we are, because we got our first nonforfeit win of the season. I choose to believe that we were flipping brilliant.

And because this blog is a historic record that 3B can look back on, I’m going to record my brilliance for posterity, or until the lights go out in Blogger’s server farms. This is so that 3B will know that, at one time, Papa wasn’t just that bald guy asleep in the LaZBoy with the reading glasses on his forehead and the remote laying on top of his paunch:

Papa’s Stats for May 5, 2007

  • Batting average: 1.000
  • Inside the park home runs: 1
  • RBIs: too many to count (really, I just don’t have the scorecard with me)
  • Putouts: too many to count, but myself (shortstop) and my coeditor (3rd) were a machine, fielding line drives, sizzling grounders, and sky-high popups in a pouring rain
  • Assists: see previous
  • Errors: 1 (trying to keep it real, people)
  • . . . which yields a fielding percentage damn near as pure as Ivory soap, baby.

Added benefit of going out to the game tonight: nothing in my body will snap or creak tomorrow, since nothing in my body will be capable of bending.

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  • Way to go Papa. And congrats to the team!

  • Impressive stats, old man! Nicely done. How the heck do you START a game past 9:00 pm? I’d have been asleep in the dugout by the 4th inning!

  • Fortunately, this isn’t a very serious league. Some guys come with the stirrup socks, but the rest of us wonder what their deal is and wonder how hard and fast the rule against drinking during games is. Games are only 5 innings, or an hour and a quarter, whichever comes first, so I could be home and tucked in by 10:30, if I didn’t have to take a long epsom salt bath when I got home, to avoid seizing up overnight.

  • As I was walking down a flight of stairs today, I heard my knees snapping. The problem wasn’t that they were giving me trouble after many dislocations years ago.

    No, the trouble was that those snaps were exactly like the sound of my mother’s knees.

    Add to that my poor eyesight and hearing, and my love of crocheting, and I’m ready for the old folks’ home.

  • Henitsirk: Amazing how fast it comes up on us. Maybe it just seems fast because with my failing eyesight, I couldn’t see it coming.

  • I didn’t know you knew how to knit. Personally, I usually crochet my afghans. When I am not stitching together yearbooks and blog posts, I find quilting, knitting and cross stitch rather relaxing. Of course the stitches on the cross stitch are getting smaller these days. I have been working on all these old lady things since I was in junior high school.

  • Oh yeah. I guess you would crochet them. See, this is why I never got started on all that stuff and went for the old man stuff: being crotchety and growing hair in my ears.

  • Yeah, just don’t bother to even get out of bed. It ain’t worth it. And it only gets worse.

    What I hate is that it used to take one or two days to heal up. Now it takes a month. Sheesh.

  • You heal up?

    Sheesh.