Flashes of Panic

An hour or so ago, I noticed that the lights weren’t on at the softball fields. I assumed there were no games tonight, so they hadn’t turned the lights on. Or maybe there was some kind of regular night off, it being a Friday, after all.

But just now I looked out and saw two teams milling around the benches, presumably wondering how to play softball in the dark. Or, perhaps, conducting some kind of experiment to determine if the beer is as good without the game beforehand.

There was a summer program I attended while in high school which attracted, shall we say, more than its fair share of eccentrics. Among the many things I had forgotten (until I recalled it just now) was the Midnight Croquet Club, an organization made up (necessarily) of faculty and staff for the purpose of playing croquet at midnight. Somehow I suspect midnight croquet is somewhat less dangerous than midnight softball.

Update: Fifteen minutes later, the lights are on. This is going to be a late game.

Now Playing: Fumble by Frank Jordan

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