Started playing when it became obvious my dream of playing MLB was dead. About nine months removed from my last high school game, that is.
Played every year until I was 38 or so. Played fall ball, played spring, played co-ed, played on tournament teams, played league play, played weekends.
One time was winning a big tournament in Tuscaloosa with five or six Bama players on the team. Kerry Goode, Vince Sutton -- can't remember the others. Ray Perkins showed up in the dugout and roasted their ass. They left. We forfeited.
Eventually I had to quit. Got too old. Couldn't run. Kept hurting myself sliding. Never hit for power, really, more of a line drive, gap hitter. After about 35, the bat pop fizzled too. Maybe if I'd worked out instead of smoking cigarettes and eating Frisco burgers and curly fries I could have extended it, but it was time to put that down.
And they were starting that stealing rule which I thought was stupid.
I did enjoy playing, though. It's a dude thing. Part of a team. Competition. Winning.