25 years of Orange and Blue

In 1985, just after high school graduation, The Mailman got together with his brother and some friends and they formed a baseball team.  Yup, this is baseball, not softball.  They picked a name, they picked colors, orange and blue.  Our town has a league which I guess is pretty unique.  Anyone out of high school can play.  It is almost exclusively players from within the town, with rules as to the number of "out of towners" any one team can have.  If you are "from" the town, you don't have to still live in town to be considered an "in towner."  There are six teams, they hire umpires, work with the town to get fields, get insurance, etc.  It is a lot of fun for the guys who play, and is pretty competitive.  Ten or so years ago they instituted a draft, because a few of the teams were getting all of the better players (I'm torn on this one, think that you should be able to play with your friends . . . ) and the they even switched to wooden bats (I'm against this, because it costs way too much money, which seems to come out of my family pocket).
Fast forward to 2009.  The 25th season of this team.  Three of the original players from 1985 remain - The Mailman, his brother, "E," and the friend who hosted the party where the team was formed, "Rippa."  The ages of the players this summer ranged from 18 to 44.  They played well, but lost in the final game of the playoffs.
This Saturday is a celebration of the 25th season the the Orange and Blue.  There will be much beer consumed and many stories told.  It has been a huge part of my life and of our life as a couple.  There are times when I hate it, because it is all consuming for The Mailman for the two or so months that they play.  When The Girl was a baby and little enough to still need to be "watched" it was always an issue.  I was supposed to be at work until 5:30, games start at 6:00, it was a logistical nightmare.  We haven't ever taken a mid summer vacation.  Ever.  Our week in Maine at the end of August is chopped up by The Mailman needing to go back for playoff games.  When I get aggravated, though, I have to remind myself of the good things.  My sister met my brother in law at a party in our back yard.  He was a member of the team, someone I had known for years and I don't think I ever would have thought to put them together.  They've been married 14 years and have two great kids.  I have made some great friends with players and their girlfriends, some of whom have become wives.  These are "kids" that are younger than I am that I never would have crossed paths with had it not been for this team.  My dearest friend Sara is one of these people.  Sara and her husband, who still plays, are now "family" and we're anxiously awaiting the birth of their first child after the first of the year. 
At the core of this team is an "Orange Family" and I can't even imagine what my life would have been like if there hadn't been that party on Line Road in 1985.  I'll continue to bitch about it, because it is a hassle sometimes and The Mailman more than pays his way financially to keep the team afloat (and keep them in 30 packs), but I know in my heart that this is my team, too.  And I know that when the day comes that The Mailman has to hang up his cleats, that I will miss it.  But I know that there will always be room for us along the fence behind the third base bench.  Especially if there is a cooler in the back of The Mailman's truck.


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