It's that time of year.
Dusty cleats are located at the rear of the closet,
glove oil uncovered beneath batteries, old keys and permanent markers in the kitchen junk drawer.
Robert becomes Bobby, William Billy.
There is stretching.
And high hopes for the new season.
With the first crack of the bat,
the first roar of the crowd.
Little League dreams are resurrected.
They are ageless wonders of the diamond playing on their own "field of dreams."
Yes, it is that time of year.
Senior Softball is in session.
Now would someone please pass the Ben Gay.