I used to like baseball... 1980 Part 1

The summer before my freshman year of high school, the summer of 1980, was the best summer of my life. I played softball in the dusty field that was at the center of town and my team was exceedingly good. I had never been particularly coordinated when it came to sports, but somehow things clicked for me that summer, and for that summer and that summer alone, I was good. In fact I was great.

I played first base, and my friend LeaIla pitched. Sunny played short stop. I don’t remember who else was on the team, but it didn’t matter. All the balls came to us, and we were unstoppable.

About half our games were away games, which meant we would pile onto the bus and drive 30 minutes to an hour to meet our opponents. I knew some of the girls on the other teams, because we played them in basketball and volleyball as well.

Bunny played for the Hanston team. Bunny was short for Bonita, which my Mom said meant “beautiful” in Spanish. Bunny was pretty and I remember thinking it was a good thing she was. How awful would it be to be ugly, AND to be stuck with a name like Bonita. There would be no end to the ribbing you would have to endure at school.

Gay played for Spearville, which was over an hour away. She was tall and had shortish brown hair and freckles and you could just tell she was really nice. I worried about her name too. Back then “gay” didn’t mean homosexual, at least not that we were aware of, yet I knew it was a decidedly risky name to bear. What if she wasn’t gay? What if she was sad and depressed instead? I had to wonder at the wisdom these girls’ parents had exhibited in naming them.

I had always liked my name. (I still do) There was a girl named Tammy in my grade, and I was briefly jealous of her name, and inquired of my parents how I could go about changing my name to Tammy. I don’t remember what they said, but the feeling soon passed, and I was mostly just grateful not to be a “Bunny” or a “Gay.”

When I wasn't playing with my own team, I was busy watching the other teams in our town play. There was a game played nearly every night at the baseball field in the center of my town. The field was on the far corner of the grade school play ground and there were bleachers set up on either side of home plate.

The field was just a few blocks from my house, which was at the north edge of town, and each night after dinner, I would ride my yellow 10 speed to the field to meet my friends and watch the games.

There were always a lot of people at the games, especially the men’s games. The adults sat in the bleachers, and the teenagers sat on the hoods of their cars. People would bring their ice chests full of pop and beer to drink while they watched. Some people even brought their dinner and ate it picnic style on the ground next to the bleachers. There was always a big orange thermos sweating on a table next to the bleachers with little Dixie cups next to it. The water was for anyone who wanted it and I remember it was the coldest, best water I had ever tasted.

I remember being so carefree and full of confidence that summer. I had a really dark tan, and an awesome perm that was curly underneath and straight on top, just like Jonni Millington’s. My curfew had been extended and I could stay out till 10 o’clock, even during the week. I rode my bike everywhere, and because many of my friends were already starting to drive, I took a few “forbidden” rides with teenagers – and act that was as thrilling as it was dangerous. I could catch and throw and hit the ball and my softball team was undefeated. The start of school seemed far, far away, but even the thought of it wasn’t so bad because I would be starting high school.

I felt like I had the whole world ahead of me. And I did.