Another Kris softball game

Sitting here at Kris' softball, I'm entertained by the men and one woman playing the game. It's a much different group than the ultimate crowd: nearly everyone is overweight, slow. Yet it's very clear this group of people enjoy playing the game, probably asmuch as we enjoy playing ultimate, love their sport as much as we love our sport.

Or maybe not. Ultimate players are very much an insane, dedicated group of people.

The pitcher on Kris' team is really good for the league, which I think is the B league, maybe C, I don't know how many teams in each.

Watching Kris is pretty awesome. It's close enough to baseball that Kris is clearly having a good time, enjoying the idea of playing baseball, his one true sports love, again.

I read eariler this week an article about a 41 year old goalie who absolutely loved playing soccer. He played every weekend, during the week if he could, throwing himself around after the black and white.

His wife, on the other hand, hated that he played. She feared his injuring himself, and possibly making himself unable to work. His being the sole bread winner in the family of three, her concerns may have been valid, but insisting a spouse stop participating in the sport he loves, the activity that keeps him young, and alive, well, that insistence
sounds an awful lot like marital suicide.

Kris plays softball, and risks making his minorly injured shoulder a serious injury. It's his shoulder, it's his choice. I'll schedule the massages; I'll rub when I can; I'll always cheer him on; but I'd never ask him to stop.

How could I when I see the joy in his face when he throws that perfectly grounded ball?