Back Home Again

I finally made it back home. It seems a whole lifetime has past since I left here. I am sure that I am not the same man who packed his bags and departed from the only place he had every really called home. Sure I gave other places a try. I have been here and there. Sometimes it was of necessity. Sometimes it was just plain wanderlust. My heart, however, never let me settle in any foreign land. Like the needle of a compass, it always pointed to the place I had left until it brought me back here. Back home. Well, to be perfectly honest, I spent more time at shortstop than at home. Just as well, too, because my performance in the field was a little better than my performance at the plate.

Yes, I am playing baseball again. They say your first flame never quite dies. Maybe there is something in that. Baseball was my first love; some of the fondest memories of my childhood come from my time out on the diamond, or out in the front yard for that matter. As long as I had a glove, baseball or bat in my hand, I was happy. I tried basketball and ultimate frisbee in Russia. I tried ultimate frisbee an soccer in South Carolina. These sports were great and I would play them all again. But they weren't home. My flings with these other sports just made me want to return to my true love. And we all know that true love wins in the end. I think I am on the verge of writing one of those gripping Christian romance novels and use sports as main characters. I'll get to that when I finish my Amish romance.

I found a team here that has generously agreed to let me join. Today I went to a practice, which I think was a kind of try out for me. Just a handful of guys showed up and put me through the paces. I played passably enough to work my way on to the team. None of the guys spoke much English, and my Chinese is terribly limited, so to be honest, I don't really know much about the team. I don't know, for example, who they play, how serious their games are, how good they are, if they chew sunflower seeds, what their version of a rally cap is, if they allow spitting on the field, or if they prefer line drives to "dream team" hits (ask Jeb about that one). All I know is that they occasionally go out on a baseball diamond and engage in America's pastime in Taiwan. I also know the name of the team. I could tell you what it is, but I think it more fitting for you to learn it from our theme song. I won't be a star on this team. I will probably ride the bench, if I even get to the bench. Maybe I will just practice with them. But I will be out there, glove on hand. Yes, as soon as practice was over, they took me to the local baseball store where I outfitted myself with a glove, cleats, socks, a batting glove, and put down a deposit on a uniform. All of this, minus the uniform, is sold as a set at the store. You pay $2,800 (that would be Taiwanese dollars) and get to select from a set group of gloves, cleats, socks, and batting gloves. It is kind of like ordering a value meal at a fast food restaurant. Now that I think about it, though, It may be that the guys who I practice with work for that store. They may sucker in people who desperately want to play baseball, take them to the store to get outfitted, and then disappear. It may be another one of those Taiwanese practical jokes, just like the food. These people really are jokers.

Anyway, if I wasn't suckered, I shall soon be back out on the field, hoping desperately that, after more than 10 years of not playing, I will not make a fool out of myself (as fun as it was, I refuse to count the games I played on the St. Andrews softball team as being out on the diamond. We had fun, but it was the least competitive team I have ever played on.). Maybe I can make up for all my rustiness, or just plain lack of ability, by looking good in the uniform (yeah, that's really wishful thinking). Maybe I will make them all proud by being a fantastic spitter out in the field. Maybe sometime I will get either a line drive or a dream team hit. And maybe, just maybe, after one of those hits, I will make it all the way home.