No "Old Man Jokes" Here!

My first non coaching "baseball practice" in more than 35 years was one to remember. Like the first day of class in elementary school, I was excited, anticipating the adrenalin rush of catching and hitting a baseball again. I made sure to do a little extra mobility and stretching in the gym the day before and even simulated the throwing and swinging motions in order to wake up those muscle fibers that had been dormant for years. Since the workout was at Cincinnati Reds slugger Nick Castellanos' property, I invited my son and surprised my 18-year-old nephew, a high school pitcher, to join me and get an opportunity meet Nick. After some initial stretching, Nick set up a machine to vault some fly balls our way. My confidence level was teetering as I didn't know how well I'd track the fly balls, given that I was wearing progressive, prescription eyeglasses. Castellanos Sr. and I took turns fielding the fly balls. When I heard the thump of the baseball pop out of the machine, my heart was racing. My son and nephew were watching and recording and I didn't want to look foolish. The ball looked like it was floating in space, but thankfully there weren't too many clouds in the sky that afternoon and I was able to determine when it had reached its peak and was starting to descend. I shuffled my feet slowly as to not have my vision bounce around too much. I was under it, just a few more seconds and I breathed a sigh of relief as the ball landed in the pocket of my glove and I confidently took it out and tossed it back. After catching about 5 in a row, I couldn't wait to get my turn. It was as if I was back patrolling centerfield in high school, never letting any ball hit the ground within my 360-circle moving radius. As it turned out, I caught every fly ball and neither my son or nephew were able to gain any "old man jokes" or laughs at my expense.