Alright, someone was asking about my time with the Westboro adult league baseball out in Wisconsin. Man, that takes me back a bit. It wasn’t like I was trying to go pro or anything, not at my age, but the itch to get back on a diamond, you know, it just kinda creeps up on you.
I remember first hearing about it. Probably saw a flyer at the local hardware store or something equally mundane. My first thought? “No way. I haven’t swung a bat seriously in years.” My glove was probably fossilizing in a box somewhere in the garage. Plus, adult leagues, they can be a mixed bag, right? Some guys take it way too seriously, others are just there to drink a cold one after. I was hoping for something in between.
So, I hummed and hawed for a bit. Then, one Saturday, I was cleaning out that said garage, and there it was – my old Mizuno. Still had a bit of that worn leather smell. That kinda sealed the deal for me. I figured, what the heck, worst case, I pull a hamstring and embarrass myself. Best case, I get some sun and maybe make a few new buddies.
Signing up was pretty straightforward. Filled out a form, paid a small fee. Nothing too complicated. The first “practice,” if you could call it that, was interesting. A bunch of us, all shapes and sizes, looking a bit lost. Some guys clearly still had it, whipping the ball around. Others, like me, were a bit… rustier. My arm felt like wet spaghetti after about ten throws. And running? Let’s just say the bases felt a lot further apart than I remembered from high school.
But here’s the thing:
- The folks were generally pretty cool. Not a lot of egos, which was a relief.
- We all kinda bonded over how out of shape some of us were. Lots of good-natured ribbing.
- There was this one older fella, must’ve been in his late 60s, played a mean first base. Gave me hope.
The games themselves were a blast, mostly. We weren’t exactly the ’27 Yankees, mind you. There were dropped fly balls (some by yours truly, I’ll admit), wild pitches, and some truly questionable base running. But there were also those moments, you know? A solid crack of the bat, a diving catch someone managed to pull off, turning a double play when you least expected it. Those little victories felt huge.
I remember one game, it was a sweltering July afternoon. We were down by a run, bottom of the last inning, two outs. I managed to bloop a single over the shortstop’s head. Just pure luck. Next guy up gets a walk. Then our “slugger,” a quiet guy who worked at the post office, hit a rope into the gap. I was chugging around those bases, lungs burning, thinking I was gonna keel over right there at home plate. But I made it. We won. It was just a small-town adult league game, but man, it felt good. We all went for some pizza and cheap beer afterwards, just laughing and reliving the “glory.”
So yeah, my experience with the Westboro adult league? It wasn’t about polished baseball. It was about community, getting off the couch, and remembering how much fun it is to just play a game. I got some exercise, a few new friends, and a reminder that you’re never too old to try something, or re-try something, as it were. If you’re thinking about it, and you’re in the area, I’d say give it a shot. Just make sure you stretch first. Seriously. Stretch.
