Photo by geishaboy500

I think I’m pretty good at making, and keeping, commitments.  I try to be a man of my word, and people know that they can count on me, whether they’re family, friends, or coworkers.  Once I commit to something, I’m in for good, thick and thin.  Which has me scratching my head over a silly issue: softball.

I played on slow-pitch softball teams from my first year in high school through my mid-20’s.  These included regular teams in men’s leagues that played twice a week, various tournaments with other teams that needed an extra guy, and company teams that played after work.  They had many things in common, including the increased absence of players as the season wore on.

Everyone is gung ho in the springtime.  Rosters are bulging with willing participants, and some guys are told to stay home, that they won’t be playing in certain games.  By the midpoint of the season, though, we’re usually scrambling to field nine players so that we don’t forfeit.  Forfeiting a game sucks for both teams; to me, there’s nothing worse than having your plans scuttled because the other team couldn’t get enough guys to show up.

Even if you do get enough players to field a full team, it’s the postgame comraderie that suffers.  At its formation, my men’s league team was self-sponsored by its players.  We chipped in for the league entrance fee, which covered the umpires, official scorer, and softballs, and also paid for our own uniforms.  After a few years of bar-hopping after games, we asked one of the bar owners to sponsor us.  After all, we brought in good business; each guy usually had a girlfriend in tow, so the bar filled up quickly.  It was nice for the bar owner to get a big crowd on an otherwise quiet midweek night.

Then something strange happened.  After we settled down to one bar, we had trouble filling it after games.  I guess the girlfriends grew tired of the quaint little gin mill, and the more henpecked of our group began skipping the postgame round at the watering hole.  It came down to five of us picking up the slack at the pub.  This not only became expensive, since we had to make it look good to our sponsor, but we felt compelled to stay later to make up for the no-shows.  Getting up for work the morning after a softball game became a real challenge.  We practically had to beg guys to stop down for one drink, just to fill the room with our jerseys for a brief time.

The same thing happened on my company’s team.  At the time, I worked for a large company that had its own intramural league.  Teams were formed by the various departments, and we even played on diamonds that were on company property.  How convenient was that?  No league entrance fee, either, as the company picked up the tab for field maintenance and umpires.  A sweet deal.  But come midseason, no matter how well we were doing in the standings, we’d face a critical shortage of players.  By the end of the season, the league resembled the wartime major leagues, with old guys playing out of position, and bases on balls running rampant.  Thank God for the Mercy Rule.

I guess the difference between the expectation of playing on a team and the reality sours people on the idea.  Then, once the first guy skips out on his commitment, it’s easier for the second and third guys to follow suit.  You’re left with the core group of committed guys, who probably should be committed for putting themselves in this position year after year.

Which is why I don’t play softball anymore.

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