I decided to come out of retirement yesterday. After the horror of my last experience playing softball for my company's team, I turned in my jersey and informed the captain of the team that I would not participate in his twisted little softball league. He accepted my resignation with a perplexed look on his face, and said "Okay."

Over the past couple of weeks I kept feeling slight twinges of jealousy when I would see the team donning their ugly jersey's and heading off to Central Park, so when our team captain approached me yesterday and begged me to play (they were short a girl, and without me they would have had to forfeit), I decided to come out of retirement. Since the last game left me with such a bad taste in my mouth, I expected the worse. Fortunately, the entire experience was COMPLETELY different and I actually had a great time. This was due to several factors:

1. Our team had already made it to the playoffs, so the outcome of the game was irrelevent. It was actually going to be "just for fun" as was promised to me originally. I was assured that no one would yell at me or knock me down.

2. Instead of a drunken beer peddler as an umpire, we had a professional. (And a cute one at that)

3. The team we were playing was horrible. I honestly don't even know why they attempted to participate in the league. They all hailed from the accounting department and, with one excpetion, I had never set eyes on any of them before. Their lineup consisted of :

The Captain: An older gentleman who did not actually participate in the game, but instead chain-smoked while barking out commands to the team.

The Catcher: A very large man who I'm pretty sure left during the middle of the game to go get stoned.

The Pitcher: A cute brunette who threw a temper tantrum when the umpire called her out.

1st base: A very old man.

Second Base: A young guy who fancied himself to be somewhat of a stud and hit on me whenever he was at bat (I played catcher).

3rd Base: A man that did impressions of various actors while he was on the field (very BAD impressions).

Shortstop: A girl who was wearing sandals.

Center Field: A giant redheaded guy who was wearing a cowboy hat.

RF: I can't remember.

Left Field: A slow-witted mail room guy who kept having to be told "don't swing at every pitch now!!" by his teammates. He also posed for various photos throughout the game. He was striking poses ala the little league photos that you had taken when you were little. (i.e.. "Down on one knee with your glove under your arm" or "Poised and ready to hit an imaginary ball.")

Compared to these guys I looked like a seasoned player.

Suffice it to say, we won the game. I even caught a couple of balls. Unfortunately this happy-go-lucky, just-for-fun attitude will not last long. The playoffs begin next week, and if I do decide to participate I'll once again be dealing with a group of ridiculous middle aged men who take the league entirely too seriously. Regardless, I'll do my best, and try not to end up injured and ashamed like last time. Wish me luck....