Lingerdog's World

A friend of mine from childhood died Friday, he was young, well by my standards young anyway. Twenty Eight is too young to go, but it happens everyday, some expected after a long battle with illness, others a tragic accident that leaves those who remember, and those who love, in shock and dismay, that a rock in their world, is gone into eternity.
I believe he went to heaven, we went to church together, but honestly I don't know, I never took the time to talk to him about his faith or salvation, sadly a missed opportunity.
His name was John Dale "Johnny" King Jr. A story about him in the local paper tells of his life after he left York. And a memorial page for him can be found here. There too are stories shared about Johnny.
And sometimes we face our grief and remembrance alone, because in a world so big, sometimes we think that we are the only people that knew a person. But through sites like facebook, sometimes we learn that a person we knew, also knew other people we knew.
You sometimes learn that the world is a lot smaller place than you had thought, and that we are connected by usually invisible strings that tie us to each other. At a time like this though, we get to see some of those strings, as the people who knew this person speak their condolences for the world to hear, so that this persons death does not pass silently, un-noticed, because in some way, this person made an impact in another persons life.
I see people I know, speaking about Johnny, and I wonder, how did you know him, and how did we never learn that we had a mutual friend.
In a day or two for some of us, and maybe in weeks or months for others, we will go back to our lives, and Johnny will be but a memory to be fondly spoken of at gatherings of mutual friends.
But for others, their lives are forever changed, family, wives and children, they will have this heavy on their hearts for some time, and it is they, that most need to hear the words of consolation and remembrance, to hear that their loved one, is remembered, that their passing is not un-noticed, and that they did make a difference in someones life.

I don't mean, say I got hit in the head with a softball, but rather I think about it near constantly now.

See, last June I weighed 385 pounds, I was out of shape, and didn't really care about getting into shape, and then some bad things happened and in the course of it I dropped forty pounds.

At this time I also started going to church for the first time in twelve years. A great little church that seems to be growing called Liberty Baptist Church. It's located between York and Rock Hill in South Carolina.

As I started going there, I started attending the softball games in the fall league, my brother played and I figured it would help keep my mind off the things I had went through in June. And it worked pretty well, and I realized that it looked really fun, and that I wanted to play.

I was encouraged by my brother to speak up about wanting to play, but as I told him, I was way to out of shape, and having not played in fifteen years, I couldn't just jump back in there and start costing them games.

So I took the gains I had made in the weight loss arena and ran with them, being down 75 pounds at the last time I checked, which was a few months ago. I started watching videos on youtube to help me work on my swing and any catching and throwing tips I could find.

When I could get a chance, I would hit off my sons tee-ball tee. I would throw when I had someone to throw with.

We started talking about putting together a men's league team to compete at a higher level than church co-ed.

As spring approached I was hit in the face with a ball and decided I didn't want to play on a men's league team anymore. I decided it would be better, safer even to work on my game for at least a season with the church team before I risked getting out there with a men's team.

Spring arrived and we signed up for the church team, and a friend contacted my brother about playing on his men's team, he told me if I wanted I could come and practice with them, and so I did. I made man number ten on the team, the minimum really for even having a team.

I had forgotten that in men's league I can play catcher, and so that is where I was installed. I didn't know how much a catcher has to throw, especially in practice where each batter is given ten good hits each.

By the end of my first practice my arm was aching. I had been moved to short stop late in the practice and on the last hit of practice I got a grounder and made the throw to first getting the runner out.

I felt good about that.

But now the practices synchronized with practices on Monday and Thursday nights, adding up to seven or eight hours of practice a week.

It sounded a bit overwhelming at first. And the first double practice was the aforementioned practice where I was placed at catcher for the first time. I was sore for two days afterward, with that first day afterward being excruciating just to get out of bed and go to work in the morning.

Out at the church league, I was moved from third to short to first, and I practiced pitching, just in case that is where I was needed.

I had been more afraid of my batting than anything, but it turns out I didn't have much to worry about in that regard. We have had three scrimmages and in those I have been at bat I believe eight times.

My first at bat went to center field and I got a double out of it, which considering I'm around three hundred pounds and not really that fast is pretty good. My second at bat, well, I stepped on home plate and fell down. I got up and jogged to first and still beat the throw. It was a good hit out to right field.

In my other at bats, one was caught in the outfield, and one was a grounder to the infield and I was thrown out at first. I've had a single and two more doubles. So I feel pretty good about my hitting.

But at the men's league, well I can't figure it out, it isn't just that there are less holes to hit the ball into, I just can't seem to hit, I drop my back shoulder too much, I pull my swing in, I just don't get it.

But my throwing arm is getting better. Better distance, better aim, just better all around. And it's less sore after practice now.

Softball is always on my mind though. I hate how many days are between Monday and Thursday, and then again between Thursday and Monday. I dream about playing softball in my sleep and wake up wishing I was at the field. I wish we were practicing five days a week.

I miss it when I'm not there. And when I am there, after I've punished my body through two practices, even though muscles ache and are sore, even though I'm tired, I always walk away smiling, wishing it was time for the next practice to start.