Hitting It in the Park

I thought for sure that the lady singing opera while walking around the Central Park reservoir track was going to be the weirdest part of my day. She was dressed in all black, yoga pants and T-shirt, with hot pink headphones like earmuffs covering her ears. I jogged past her as she paused for a moment, slapped her knees in self-admonishment over some error I could not detect, and then once more belted out high notes with a force and clarity I had never before heard up so close in person.

But after I exited the track, as I walked alongside the softball fields, my day got a little weirder. A 20-year-old woman from one of the co-ed league teams warming up waved at me and asked if I would play so they wouldn't have to forfeit.

I did a quick internal analysis:
My softball experience consists of playing a few times about 30 years ago.
I can't throw the ball far enough to reach second base from first.
I am a slow runner.
I have no upper body strength.

"Okay, I'll do it," I said.

I suspected that any team that was recruiting in such a manner was either pretty bad or had a sense of humor or both. And since I am pretty bad and have a sense of humor, it was the perfect fit. As I said yes, a wiry, leathery man wearing a white baseball cap and smoking a cigarette came over to us and said, "You're going to play? Great! Thanks!" Then he took a drag and walked over to tell the others.

They gave me a size large red T-shirt that fit me like a boxy dress and then sent me out to right field. So of course the very first swing was a hit that took a bad bounce in the infield and skidded its way right into my area of responsibility. I chased after the ball and tossed it, underhand, to the second baseman. After that, they put me at catcher.

As the game progressed, I realized my team had a bit of a Bad News Bears vibe but they seemed to be pleased that they were not being "mercy ruled" as usual. I was bringing them good luck! Sure, there were whiffs at the plate and drops and misthrows in the field, but we got to play the whole nine innings. Final score: 16-11, a respectable loss.

This day that started with unexpected opera ended with a grand finish. As I bid my teammates goodbye, I told them what fun it had been to play. And that's when one of them said: "Hey, are you available next week?"