Wanna Play Catch? Part 1

The First Catch

I recently began re-engaging in the act of grieving the loss of my father. Something I’ll cover in greater detail within the confines of essays to be published later. For now, knowing that tidbit about Dad will help the following make sense.

August 2024

I have been carrying around a major case of the sads lately for numerous reasons. However, a byproduct of the dad-induced woe has been a burning desire to have a catch with someone. After much trepidation, I eventually mustered up the courage to post the following on a local Facebook Group page.

"I’m looking for people to have a catch with. I don’t care how young or old you are, male or female, baseball or softball, and I don’t care if you’re any good at it. I just bought the cheapest mitt I could find that would fit my man paw, along with a few generic balls, and I’m ready to go. It’s been a few years, maybe decades since I’ve thrown a ball, so I’m sure my skill level won’t intimidate anybody. I’m not selling anything and I won’t ask you to join a cult.

I saw some guy doing this on TV a while back and it stuck with me. Then I saw “Field of Dreams” again recently, a big mistake when you’re missing your dad. I’ve been missing him, a few other people, and the act of throwing a ball around, ever since. We don’t have to talk, or we can talk all you want. Either way works for me. I can meet you in a park, a parking lot, the beach, your front yard, wherever. I just want to play catch. If you do too, please message me. Thanks."

I understand that asking people to play catch on Facebook isn’t what most would describe as courageous. But in my somewhat fragile state, I really didn’t want to deal with any trolls who might question my sexuality, or suggest anything about my character or ulterior motives simply for their own amusement. So it took three beers one night to fight through my trepidation to post it. My worries were unsubstantiated, however, as the response was entirely and overwhelmingly positive.

I was encouraged to receive responses from males and females across a fairly broad age range. The first person I was able to meet up with was a local guy roughly my age. We agreed to meet at a park near a disc golf course. In keeping, I arrived about 10 minutes early. Then, without consciously thinking about it, I began underhand tossing the ball high into the air, catching it alternately overhanded and underhanded. Playing catch with myself like I did when I was a kid while waiting for Dad to come out and join me. This, along with the fact that I was actually catching the ball caused me to smile widely.

A few minutes later, a car parked about 100 yards away, next to the baseball field. I saw a man get out of the car and walk toward the baseball diamond with a gear bag in tow and a baseball glove in his hand. This is my guy! I took a few steps in his direction and lifted my glove somewhat apprehensively into the air to proclaim my intentions. He responded by shooting his up with sharp decisiveness, and immediately asked in a friendly tone, 

“Wanna play?” 

“I do!” I replied. 

As we extended hands for a shake, I asked, “Jay?” 

“No, I’m Slim. I’m here for softball practice. You looking for Jay? He’s out here sometimes.”

It later occurred to me that although I thought he was the guy I was looking for, he had no idea who I was. I was just some stranger walking his way, showing him my glove. Yet, he invited me with child-like exuberance to play with him. Had we been standing across from each other at a gas pump, next to each other in line at the grocery store, or even walking by each other on the sidewalk, odds are there would have been no acknowledgment, a subtle nod, or even the unwelcome but everpresent casual sizing up of each other. 

But in this case, we were both holding baseball mitts, which immediately connected us in a way that few if any other things could for grown men who otherwise don’t know a thing about each other. I’m sure it’s tied to early development, childhood memories, paternal bonds, or whatever else experts might have to say about it. All I can tell you is I think it’s fucking fantastic.

I explained I was there to play catch with Jay. Slim said he was there for softball practice, but that we should have a catch in the interim. So my first game of catch in 20 years wound up not even being with the fella I was scheduled to meet, but some other random middle-aged dude entirely. Things were off to a great start.

After three throws and three catches, it was as if I had never put my glove away on a shelf in the shed two decades prior. Though my shoulder knew exactly how long it had been and told me all about it the next morning. Jay showed up about five minutes later. We shook hands, shared amusement over the happenstance with Slim, and then without so much as a verbal suggestion or physical cue, all three of us spaced out accordingly and began throwing the ball around.

After a few minutes, a woman showed up for the actual softball practice and pulled Slim away for batting and fielding duty. Jay and I began an easy conversation that resulted in a high-level overview of what we do, where we’re from, and how we got here. Also, the reasons why I made the Facebook post, and why he responded - but those details aren’t as important as the takeaway.

There are many things about playing catch that are conducive to good, open conversation. You can pause the game for half a second or longer for emphasis and eye contact. Or, you can make no eye contact at all, or warm up to it slowly under the guise of watching the ball into the mitt. Over the course of about 30 minutes, I learned some new things, remembered some forgotten ones, and made some new friends with no effort or awkwardness at all. And in addition to the baseball, I may have caught the notion of my father in the air a time or two. Not bad for a half hour of passive exercise.