It was a beautiful day as the school bus carrying the South Williamsport softball team began its journey to Wilkes-Barre for a key matchup with highly regarded Holy Redeemer. Traveling across Route 80, the normality of the trip was shattered with shrieks of laughter as players scurried to close windows as a sudden storm brought rainwater inward. As quickly as it arrived, the storm dissipated, and sunshine returned.
Sunshine prevailed as the team arrived at the field and began its pre-game routine. A short time later, the skies opened up. With the dugout its only shelter, players squeezed together, sharing the same laughter that had been their bus ride companion.
Puddles quickly formed, and the area in front of the dugout began to resemble a small lake. Suddenly, a softball splashed in front of us as a player went to retrieve it. Laughter abounded as I was asked if I had a pen. I produced the same, unaware of what was happening. Moments later, the softball made a return splash as laughter continued.
Investigating the commotion, I discovered the two teams were entertaining themselves with a game of tic-tac-toe using a softball as their board and tossing the ball back and forth, countering each other’s moves as the rain continued. With that game ending in a stalemate, each squad produced its own musical accompaniment and challenged each other to an impromptu dance contest.
Moments later the sunshine returned, and the puddled water began to recede. Eager to play, the team returned to competitive mode. Suddenly, the bad news was received: no game. Holy Redeemer officials called off the proceedings. Begrudgingly, players filed into the awaiting bus for the hour-and-a-half ride home.
While rain and softball/baseball are unwelcome companions, a scroll of the internet reveals some hilarious occurrences accompanying the rain. Players have used the wet field tarps as their Slip & Slide, field crews have found themselves in precarious positions, and fans in the stands have found ways to entertain themselves oblivious to the wetness falling upon them.
Still, Mother Nature’s moisture can put a damper on things.
With moisture still falling days after the above-mentioned game, I found myself rained out of intended plans. Improvising, it was time to tackle an oft-postponed task, cleaning out years of assembled belongings tucked away in the attic.
At our house, this isn’t an easy task. The attic is small with a sloping roof, making it impossible to stand. Having had double-knee replacements, Jean was relegated to moral support as the project unfolded. Slowly, I would crawl to the back of the attic, retrieve an item, and return for the next extraction.
Ten minutes into the project I came across a cardboard box labeled ‘Little League memorabilia.’ Opening the box produced a ‘Christmas morning-like experience.’ It was a 38-year treasure chest rediscovered containing photos and keepsakes from the many years I served as Little League Baseball’s Central Region Director.
Many great memories were recalled, including one quite painful.
One year, while directing a tournament in Indiana, I was asked to throw out the first pitch.
Obligingly, I entered the field along the third base dugout, awaiting the PA announcer’s call to the mound. While waiting and talking, one of the players was taking some practice swings. One of us was in the wrong place, but at that time, it didn’t matter.
The batter’s swing connected squarely in my rib cage, almost knocking me to the ground. I was in no shape to throw out anything, except a few gasps trying to get my breath. I would miss most of the game, as I was taken to the hospital. Somehow, nothing was broken, but I spent the next several days tightly wrapped with some bruised ribs.
To add insult to injury, at the championship game of the tournament, I was called to the mound for a presentation that left me painfully laughing. The local tournament committee presented me with a very unique plaque containing a curved aluminum bat, insinuating that it was my rib cage that did damage to the bat!
That bat plaque has been resting in our attic ever since. As I crawled on my hands and knees with this ‘treasure’ in tow, the pain was no longer in my ribs, rather in my knees as I yelled to Jean, “Look what I found.”
As the rain continued to fall outside, this indoor project was now in a delay. I will return to the attic to ‘get-er-done’— but sometimes rain delays can produce some great memories.
