My Worship Revolution

I left the house for our softball game at about 7:15 pm yesterday.  It was cold here all day yesterday.  As I’m leaving, there’s a nice brisk fall feeling in the air (winter feeling for us SoCal peeps), the first game of the regular season for NFL was on TV, and everything just felt right with the world.

I told Rachel on the way out that this was our night.  We weren’t going to lose.  I knew the team we were playing had only won a single game going into last week.

Almost the whole team was there.  The night actually was feeling a bit of a downer.  I was in right center.  I hate right center.  The captain of the high school chess team sees more action than right center field during a coed city league softball game.  I was trading innings with Ryan.  Trading batting with James.  I hate that we don’t get to play the whole game.  Same people all the time too.  That’s a different post though.  (Did I mention it was really cold out, too?)

We went into the bottom of the fourth, our final at bat, down 13-6.  And that’s when it happened.  Base hit after base hit.  We’re down by 4 now, bases loaded, Josh is up.  In the park homer over the right fielders head.  The game ends in a tie!  I know you’re thinking, "Bobby, you didn’t even win."  If you’d ever been to one of our games, you’d understand, that’s a victory.

We’re no longer the ’68 Tampa Bay Bucs.
Record: 0-6-1 baby!