Softball or a Smear?

What is it that makes your heart come alive? Asked another way, when are you your truest self?

For me, it's at Lost Mountain Park, more specifically, the five softball fields where my oldest daughter and I have grown up together.

I have friends who would rather have prostate and/or pap smear exams (OK, that should be just "or" as I have no friends who've had both) than coach kids' sports. And if I'm being honest, I've felt as if I'd been proctologized by a few parents from time to time, so I can't say that I totally blame those friends.

But who among us doesn't need to be invaded from time to time, taken out of our comfort zone and dressed down for the viewing world to see? By a parent who chooses not to take on the task? By a parent who is, for lack of a better word, a tool? Often times when it's really cold outside and you're missing a new episode of "House"?

So what is appealing to me about all this? I'm not really sure. I like the sport, but I can't say the intricacies of the game make me love it. I do love being a part of the girls' lives, but that sounds holier than Thou, even to me. And if it were just that, why not be a Girl Scout leader with hairy legs and a remarkably non-hairy head?

I like competing against other knucklehead dads, I like getting out of the house and I like hitting fly balls and sending girls from third to home, hoping the relay is mishandled or the slide is really, really good.

But I think more than any of that, it comes down to this: I've never been to the softball fields and not been glad that I was there. I can't say that about work, church, a neighbor's house or a restaurant. Even the times when my team has been beaten badly, or a parent has been highly rude, or the weather has been anything but spring-like, the good has outweighed the bad. I'll take that equation any time.