Church Ball

The St. Luke's team. Our fearless pastor Steve Mahaffey is behind the crossed bats. Bill's brother Andy is second from right, front row. And Bill of the Birds is second from left, back row.

Bill is a member of the St. Luke's Lutheran Church softball team. He's had trouble getting to many of the games this summer, but when he does he makes a contribution.
Pity the poor softball, going to meet its maker at Bill's bat. He can jack them way out there.
One of my great delights when we first started seeing each other was going to watch B. play softball with the Unexploded Bombs, a league comprised mainly of graphic artists and designers. His nickname was Spiderman, because when he plays shortstop, he seems to have a sticky glove, or perhaps to fling webs out to catch the ball. And when he powers around the bases, his long arms and legs fly out like a water strider's. He's a natural athlete, and a pleasure to watch.

I hit the shutter as the bat cracked, and the digital delay caught the ball going into Bill's glove. I don't know what I'll ever do if I get a fast camera; I've been compensating for a two-second delay for so long...

The St. Luke's team is good--especially in the outfield. Bill played third base this season, while his brother Andy pitched. Between the two of them, they helped the team to the church league championship last Monday night. It wasn't the stuff of high drama, but my friend Wilma and I sat in the bleachers and hooted and hollered our husbands on to their best efforts. Well, maybe my paparazzo tendencies distracted Bill, I don't know. But I did get some groovy shots of him in action. I missed a shot of our pastor, Steve Mahaffey, hitting the only home run of the game and sliding into home plate in an enormous cloud of red dust. Hallelujah! And we won the league championship, which we celebrated with pitchers of watery beer at the Harmar Tavern. I knew enough about the Harmar's wine selection (from cardboard boxes, and pronounced mer LOT), to bring my own snifter of Ravenswood. Cheers!

I think the thing I like most about going to softball games is watching Bill. After 15 years together, I still can't take my eyes off him. Thanks, B., for taking good care of your studly self and putting up with embarrassing squeals and hoots from the bleachers.
It's MY blog and I can embarrass whomever I please.