It is with great resolve that I officially announce my retirement from slow pitch softball forever.
Many will probably be surprised that a young man, 27 years old, with no kids, entering into the prime "not conditioned enough to actually play sports but perfect shape to play beer league softball" age would walk away from the game so soon, but after this weekend I'm left with no other choice.
1-1. Bomb. Not only over the artificial fence placated in around the 225 foot mark in the outfield, but over the actual fence at the ballpark standing some 325 feet away from home plate. 2 RBIs driving in myself along with Steelers star wide receiver Diontae Johnson. Cam Heyward heckling me as I round the bases against his team. Then capturing a 5-0 victory in a rain-shortened game. So to recap, a bomb in my only plate appearance and a W. No errors committed. Simply put, nothing will ever top the game I played on Saturday night in Washington, PA.
I've been asked plenty of times before by buddies I grew up playing ball with to come out every Tuesday and just "have fun" and "drink beer" and "scratch that competitive itch". I've always turned them down. I always just felt it was only a way to inconvenience me. A chance to roll an ankle rounding third or tear an ACL chasing down a ball in left center wasn't worth the half buzz and fat guy talking shit once a week for me. Now, I'll tell them no for a different reason. I'll tell them no because compared to Saturday, it's only way downhill from there.
But for one night in July of 2021, I Moonlight Graham'd the shit out of some slow pitch softball. It just happened to be in front of my favorite team's favorite players and 5,000 others.