The Veteran

The serious side of Goose

He pulled his car into the field's parking lot and sat looking at the empty diamond. First to show at the first practice of yet another season, the veteran of many campaigns. Why are the experienced (chronologically challenged) the first to arrive - out of habit, courtesy, fear? Stiff yet eager joints haul the weary yet anxious frame from the vehicle into an immediate and mandatory full body stretch. Equipment, both new and old, is pulled from the vehicle, the knight and his accouterments. "I need a page to help me carry this junk." Other cars arrive, other cars driven by other veterans. Time still for him to appreciate his presence here; a few moments of solitude while the others collect their gear. The satisfaction of still feeling the urge, the desire, the joy. Yet another season of funny looks, smirks, half-hidden ridicule and the even occasional expression of envy from peers long retired from games of their youth. Another series of explanations, arguments, and compromises with the spouse, off-spring and relatives. Another period of increased aches and pains. Any season could be the last due to injury (including the first)-no fear of that now. All for a few moments of boyish-like enjoyment in a game all but devoid of adult meaning and rationale. Ah, this silly little game played with sticks and balls, gloves and bases. He may be too old to still be doing this, he's just not old enough to stop.

-Goose Williamson


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