Henrietta Hay's Column

On hot summer evenings my usual location is indoors where it is cool. So I was a little surprised this year to find myself on Monday nights eating dust and sweltering in the heat -- watching 45 year old guys who think they are still 20 -- or kind of wish they were -- playing softball.

Like most women, I don't understand exactly what makes men tick, but I suspect that most of them were born with a baseball gene. These guys were having a ball.

The games I have been watching are part of one of one of the church leagues. They are played on dirt fields that are a little rough and cause the ball to do odd things now and then. The catcher is the umpire and members of the at-bat team do double duty as umpires and base coaches.

Our guys are good ball players. Most of them have played in high school and/or college. They have not forgotten the moves but they are a bit slower in executing them, it doesn't seem to bother them too much since they are playing for fun.

Most of the opposing teams show up in matching T-shirts. Our team, however, goes in for the personal touch. Each man has his own style. There are several Rockies shirts, one with Galarraga's name on the back. Our pitcher reminds me of Darth Vader, in black pants and black shirt. The third baseman's shirt says "Tiger Pride" and has the number from his daughter's soccer team sewed on the back. One player shows up in a Crop Walk shirt. The variety gives our team much more personality than uniforms would.

This activity is a family affair with a lot of good-natured kidding all around. The team consists of ten guys playing softball, but there is also a loyal cheering section that includes wives, mothers, friends, assorted kids and one baby. He gets almost as much attention as the game and adds to the din now and then.

One spectator from each team keeps score, but if the scorekeeper happens to be holding the baby, the run total may not be entirely accurate. Oh yes, somebody usually brings food.

Any stray man who shows up expecting to watch stands a good chance of being drafted to play. If he doesn't play, however, he discovers that the women are just as involved in the game as the men. One night a male onlooker who did not get drafted to play was a bit shocked at what one usually dignified woman was yelling. He moved over to a motherly-type, normally soft-spoken woman only to discover she was yelling even more graphic advice to her son on the field. This is a game that involves the whole family!

My friend the philosopher says that there are two kinds of softball fans. One group believes in giving positive support. If the player drops a fly they will say quite encouragingly, "Now don't worry, dear. You are doing fine. You will probably catch the next one." The other group believes in giving the players a hard a time. They will probably yell, "Maybe after a couple more games you'll learn to play ball. Keep your butt down and your eyes open." The cheering section has as much fun as the team and a lot more freedom of expression.

We are a sports mad country, and enjoy a lot of games. But somehow baseball (including softball) seems to be the basic one. We all played some form of it on the street or in a neighbor's field when we were little kids. Next to field hockey it was my favorite sport in college, and I still find myself out there on the field -- in my mind. It's the one team game that men and women of all ages can and do play.

Slow-pitch softball has taken over the summer sports scene here in Happy Valley. In the city recreation summer league there are 158 teams. In addition, there are several church leagues, which means that over 3000 adults have been playing softball in men's, women's and coed leagues.

These people play for fun and they plunk down good money for the privilege. Maybe the major league players could take a lesson. If the strike isn't over by next year, I suggest that they inaugurate Beer Field in Denver with slow-pitch softball.