It Was Lights Out At The Old Ballgame (standard:humor, 917 words)
Author: Godspenman	Added: Mar 22 2015	Views/Reads: 2106/1631	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Sometimes, one strike and you are out.

Someone yelling, “Let's play ball,” officially announces spring.
Springtime and baseball seem to go together, as if God created 
springtime just for the national pastime. 

Something about that first baseball game seems to shake away all the
gloomy aspects of the past winter. As soon as Old Man Winter strikes 
out for the last time, good old springtime steps up to the plate and a 
new game is afoot. 

Of course, baseball is for the young. One downside of growing older is
the fact that you grow out of certain things. For example, as you grow 
older you grow out of wearing short pants. 

You can tell an old man is trying to act young when he puts away long
pants and dons short pants. Somebody needs to tell these men that 
knobby knees are not in fashion this year and the less seen the better, 
I assure you. 

As you grow older, you also grow out of a lot of free time. There is
nothing like trying to make a living to put a crimp in your lifestyle. 
Once a man puts on his hat, grabs a lunchbox and walks out the door, he 
is in for a lifetime of work. Free time as he once knew it now has a 
price tag. 

One final thought about growing older — as you grow older, you also grow
out of extra cash jingling in your pocket. No matter how much a person 
makes, there seems to be more outgo than income in the average home 
today. 

I remember getting a raise once and when the first paycheck came, my
take-home was less than before the raise. My raise put me in a higher 
tax bracket and hence a lower income each payday. 

Only one thing I know that can put a temporary pause in all this
nonsense — simply an afternoon at the ballpark. Nothing like a good old 
ballgame to take away all the anxiety of trying to make a living. When 
I was younger, I was out in the field, playing ball. I have outgrown 
that part of my life and find myself sitting in the stands, cheering on 
my favorite team. 

One of the benefits of becoming a grandfather is attending your
grandchildren's ballgames. Now that my knees creak and my pitching 
elbow don't work like it used to, I am way out of shape to play even 
one inning of a ballgame. Baseball demands younger knees and elbows 
that are more pliable. Fortunately, for grandfathers, God has bestowed 
upon them grandchildren who play baseball. 

Several weeks ago, it was my privilege to watch my granddaughter play
her first softball game. With a good hot cup of coffee and a seat where 
I could survey the whole process, I settled down to watch a relaxed 
softball game. 

Then, the game took on a new status. My granddaughter came up to bat and
I was on the edge of my seat. At that point, the whole game changed for 
me. Sitting next to me, a man began yelling at the pitcher. “Go ahead, 
pitcher,” he screamed, “burn one across the plate, the batter's a bum, 
she can't hit nothing.” 

I had been away so long from a good ballgame I completely forgot about
this element of the game. I demurely turned to the gentleman next to me 
and opined, “You shouldn't yell at the kiddies that way. They're just 
having fun.” 

Without even looking at me, he shot, “Mind your own business, Buster.” 

I am not easily roused, but this man, what should I say, irritated me.
Yes, that is the word, “irritated.” 

Then, still not looking at me, he snipped, “The pitcher's my daughter.” 

With all the dignity, I could muster under the circumstances I retorted
with, “But the batter is my granddaughter. And granddaughters out- rank 
daughters every time.” 

I noticed the information stunned him a little. Old Bubba was trying to


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