We pulled into the lot with a feeling of nervous excitement. The team was gathering already, not huddled up chatting before warm ups started but keeping a distance between each other. The entrance was attended by a masked young man checking that each player was accompanied by only one adult. The usually crowded fields, walkways, and bleachers looked sparse. The dug outs were extended by folding chairs on the first and third base lines. I walked the perimeter of the field looking for my spot six feet away from another parent. I set up my chair in the outfield and the feeling of happy anticipation before a game returned at last. I had missed this feeling. I would usually take advantage of the downtime waiting for a game to begin to read my book or catch up on some work. Instead, I soaked it all in. The sun beat down on the field. The freshly combed dirt spit dust in the air as the pre-game drills began. The continuous ding of the bats hitting, along with the smacking of the gloves catching, signaled a beginning. The girls’ joy at being together was refreshing.
Game time-ready positions, swinging bats, cheering fans, questionable calls. Yes, softball is back and so is a piece of normal. Play ball.