Day #132

“You enter the extraordinary by way of the ordinary.”

—Frederick Buechner

I think the last time I played catch with a softball it was with the team from Drury when I was trying to learn how to hit a home run for Bombs for Bo. I played catch with one of the coaches and shagged flies for a while before I took some swings. I did end up hitting a few home runs during practice with my wood bat, but I didn’t come close at the actual event.

Sarah and Ryan are friends from Royals Twitter who have organized about a half million charity softball events. They reached out to me a couple weeks ago and asked if I’d like to play in one of this year’s games. I hesitated.

I am not really fan of slow pitch softball. I’ve got a pretty wicked scar on my right shin from stretching a double into a triple and sliding into third on a gravel infield. Cleaning up when I got home was not fun.

I’ve got another scar on my knee from a time when I was playing shortstop during college on a team in South Carolina. Infields in South Carolina are more red clay than dirt. I slid on my leg to backhand a ball and stood up with a rock as big as a quarter sticking straight out from my kneecap. Cleaning that up was really not fun.

I played on a couple of church leagues when I lived in KC and did have fun with my friends, but softball never had the appeal of baseball.

It’s because of my hands. More specifically, it’s because of my fingers. I have short, chubby fingers.

My fingers are perfect for barre chords on guitars and finger picking the strings. I could not ask for better fingers when it comes to writing — whether on a keyboard or with pen and paper. They are great for learning and practicing new grips on a baseball. A softball, however, just doesn’t fit right in my fingers. It takes my whole body to throw a softball.

Ryan’s girlfriend’s mom, Mrs. Ruder, has stage 4 cancer. I cannot even begin to imagine what I’d do if my mom had stage 4 cancer. Funds from the games he and Sarah are organizing will help with costs associated with treatment.

So, on May 26^th at 1:00 pm at MidAmerica Nazarene University, I’ll be playing right field in innings 6 – 10 of the second game of the day. As Brian Regan says, even if I play just half a game, I still get a whole snow cone. I would prefer cherry over grape.

Today, in preparation for that game, I practiced and played catch with the resurrected Fighting Jackalopes and their relatives and kids — Josh, Bethany, Jesse, Josh’s Dad, Dustin, Barbie, John, Kristin, Luke, and Ollie the southpaw.

“We might choose a Sandlot-related name,” Josh said.

We warmed up with around-the-horn catch, first with a baseball, then with a softball. I practiced throws from shortstop and tracked fly balls in the outfield. I did not slide on the gravel infield and did not dive for any fly balls and did my best to honor my hamstrings and ankle. And I even tried a few knuckleballs when I was playing catch with John.

“I’m impressed!” John said. John is a coach. He knows about the power of encouragement. It was not a good knuckleball.

Playing catch is connection. Connecting via phones and social media is good when the distances are too great. But connecting in person, especially outside through shared recreation, is sacred.

I played catch with everyone at the field today and love sharing life and faith with these friends.

My family is planning a Catch 365 Tour of Hope. The charity softball game will be on the second day of the trip. (The Macan family from Bombs for Bo is on Day #3.)

If you’re in the KC area and come to the game, donate $5 in support of the Ruder family and we can toss a ball 5 times. I’ll write your name down in my notebook with my fat fingers and post the story sometime that night listing all the names of those who did something ordinary that became extraordinary.