Not Exactly

The Pro Leagues…

One of the really sweet things that’s happened so far this summer is the weekly Adult Kick-ball match on Sunday nights in our fair valley. Now the first and foremost thing you need to understand is that this competition isn’t exactly a death-match of epic proportions pitting titans of the sport. In point of fact, it’s more like a friendly competition between opponents that you’d organize at a company’s summer picnic. Only even more laid-back since the boss and that work colleague you despise have decided not to participate (YEA!!).

Credit for our match should be given to a young lady who happens to co-own one of the premier coffee purveyors in this town. A former member of the mighty Steam-Works Kickball squad down south in Durango, she decided Silverton needs a weekly match to exhibit our highly refined skills when it comes to the sport. We’re still trying to figure out why she decided this phenomenon needs to happen.

The first two times the match took place, I used my patented Old-Age Excuse to end up acting as the all-purpose referee/score keeper for the match. I have since decided that this isn’t really necessary. Partially because the organization that pays me to do this task doesn’t really have much in the way of an adequate health insurance program.

The first time I chose to compete is memorable for a ball that was blasted my way while I was picking up rocks and chucking them off to the side. As the circular projectile flew through the air towards me, the prevailing thought that went through my mind was a contemplation of how I should be punished should I drop the ball. This I did, and upon returning to the dugout when we switched positions on the field, nobody said anything to me. Wow, what a concept, nobody really cares that my skills at this stuff suck. Basically, matched only by those of a homeless vagrant who suddenly finds themselves chosen as CEO of a Fortune-500 company.

This brings up another subject, the seriousness of the competition is only matched by the quality of the playing field. A meticulously manicured competition pitch that gives new meaning to the term, “needs a little work.” I’m thinking these selectively placed gopher holes, rocks, weeds, and other obstacles have been positioned throughout the field just so our skills will be even more challenged while we’re out there.

The first match I competed in is also notable for our own unique variation on the traditional 7^th inning baseball stretch. Someone mentioned that we needed to take a break to enjoy some fermented hops type beverages, and soon enough a 12-pack of these adult-style refreshments made a miraculous appearance at home plate. It’s questionable whether or not the consumption of these canned liquids led to a noticeable elevation of people’s skill levels. We like to think it might have done this, but currently there is no way to document this transformation.

Keeping score during that first contest I participated in turned out to be a bit of a challenge too. As the contest was progressing, it became glaringly apparent that one team was dominating the other. In keeping with my Silverton High School years from back in the 70s, I was of course on the losing side. After a while no one was really sure if the score was 15 to 3, or possibly 14 to 5. Accuracy isn’t that important in this particular instance.

So why do a lot of people who participate in this weekly kickball match do it if none of us takes any of this stuff all that seriously? I like to think our philosophy relates to a favorite quotation of mine that sits in a prominent position on the front of my refrigerator. An Aldous Huxley statement that I integrated into a favorite swimming hole story I related for the Raven Narratives back in 2018. It goes something like this:

“The secret of Genius is to

carry the spirit of the child into

old age, which means never

losing your enthusiasm.”

Aldous Huxley

Now I’m no genius (far from it…), but this statement is so eloquent and I’m constantly integrating it into my lifestyle.