I’m not normally nervous in new and even challenging situations, but this was somehow different. I think it was because I liked everyone that I met. I didn’t want to let them down, and I wanted to feel like I was legitimately part of the group.

I partnered up with Ian tossing the ball back and forth in the outfield, and that all worked fine. I missed a couple of tosses and a few of my throws were a little off mark, but in general I was okay.

Then Ian split us into two groups to have a mock game against each other. I was disappointed that Lowell was on the opposite team from me. I was still getting those prickly feelings of familiarity on my forearms each time I looked at him, and I wanted to find out more.

When it was my turn to bat, my palms were sweaty before I even reached home plate. Lowell was positioned at second base. Before I grabbed the bat, Antonio whispered in my ear, “Hit it on the ground to second base. He’s an outfielder. They don’t know how to stop ground balls.”

Ian was the pitcher for everyone, and Reggie took up the catcher’s position. The players in the field shouted compliments about my looks.

As the first pitch was delivered, I swung way too early. It was easy to do. Slow-pitch softball can feel achingly slow when you’re standing at home plate with a bat in hand.

For the second pitch, I waited a little longer before swinging. I connected with the ball, but I fouled it off. Anxiety gripped me again when I realized I had two strikes, and I was on the verge of striking out for my first time at bat in front of the entire team.

The third pitch seemed to head toward me in slow motion. I waited patiently, wiggled my back foot in the batter’s box, and then I swung. I connected with the ball, and I could feel that it was solid hit.

Antonio was right. It was a hard hit ground ball just to the right of Lowell at second base, and he fumbled an attempt to stop it. The ball rolled into the outfield while I rounded first base.

Marshall charged in toward the ball and grabbed it off the ground on the run. He flipped the ball toward Lowell just as I was nearing second base.

Somehow, instinct took over. I didn’t even realize that I knew how to slide into a base. Later, I speculated that I learned how sometime in junior high or high school. As I saw Marshall toss the ball, instinct took over, and I dropped down to slide feet first into second base.

I cut Lowell’s feet out from under him, and demolished his sense of balance. He caught the ball with his right hand, but his left arm flailed helplessly in the air until Lowell landed splayed out like a scarecrow on top of my body. We both were knocked breathless and ended up staring at each other face to face.

That’s when the memory was jogged. Instead of causing amnesia like in so many TV shows and movies, the impact of our crash jogged my memory.

I barely heard the sounds of our teammates running toward us with questions like, “Are you guys okay,” and comments like, “Damn, they hit hard.” Instead I blinked my eyes and stared into Lowell’s dark brown eyes.

He said it first. Lowell’s voice was hoarse. I knew I nearly knocked the wind out of him. He grunted, “College…freshman year.”

I exclaimed, “That’s it!” I wrapped my arms around Lowell, and I gently rolled him off to the side asking, “Are you okay?”

He climbed to his feet, and I followed suit. The rest of the team was gathered in a tight circle around us. As I watched Lowell brush off his jeans, I said, “I think we’re okay.”

Antonio pushed to the front of the group and said, “Just be careful. We don’t want any broken bones on the team.” He stepped up close to me and stared into my eyes before holding up three fingers. I batted his hand away, and he just laughed saying, “This one’s fine.”

Then he approached Lowell who said, “Antonio, if something was wrong, I would let you know.”

Ian started gesturing to break up the crowd. He said, “Okay, everybody, back to your positions. I suggest being a little less aggressive with the base running. This is just practice. Save that energy for a real game.” Then he turned and winked toward me.

As we switched positions, and I jogged to the outfield, Lowell passed by me and asked, “The date?”

I nodded and said, “That’s it. It feels like a long time ago.” I watched him nod, and then I continued toward the outfield.

With a limited number of players for fielding two practice teams, Billy Alvey and I covered the outfield on our own. I tried hard to not stare at his long black hair that grew down to the middle of his back and the piercings that sparkled in the early evening sunlight.

He shouted to me, “That was an awesome slide, Sven. I second saving it for real games, but we need more risk takers like you.”

I pounded my fist into my glove, crouched down and turned my attention toward home plate and the next batter. I heard Billy’s comment in my head one more time and laughed to myself. If there was one thing that I wasn’t, it was a risk-taker. Anyone who knew me well could tell you that. I was a person who always regressed toward the mean. Experience told me the most widely accepted path earned the title because, in the end, it brought the most success.

Blake stepped up to the plate. He looked like a baseball player as he crouched down waiting for the pitch. Every move he made was graceful. It was an awesome experience to watch him play. He hit the first ball to the outfield. In fact, he almost hit it straight to me. I took one step to the right and then waited for the ball to come down and gently nestle in my glove. I started to think I might really have some skills to offer to my new team.

As the practice wrapped up, Reggie encouraged all of us to join him down at the Toolbox for after-practice drinks. He said that he might even offer to buy the first round to kick off a new season. That line drew a round of applause.

I wiped sweat from my brow and stepped up to Lowell asking if he was planning to go.

He asked, “Are you?”

I said, “Yeah, I’d like to catch up a little if you are up for that.”

The reality was that I had hopes developing in the back of my head that we could do more than catch up. I already knew that a second reason I found it hard to look away from Lowell, outside of the memories that were beginning to re-materialize, was the fact that I was finding him attractive.

I liked the bulky body, and he had a sweet, open, non-judgmental gaze when he looked me in the eye. He seemed to have a comfortable relationship with everyone on the team, and it was clear that Antonio adored him as a friend. Antonio nagged him throughout the evening about taking care of the healing leg and making sure that he was okay after our collision.

I had two more solid hits in practice. One of them went over Marshall’s head in the outfield, and the other was another hard-hit grounder. This time it was planted between second and third base skirting past Blake’s outstretched arm.

As Reggie was packing up bats and balls, I said to him, “Hey, I just wanted to thank you for leaning so hard on me to come to practice. This has really been great, and I even surprised myself.”

He clapped me on the shoulder saying, “We’re the lucky ones to have you, Sven. You can both field and hit. We really don’t have any weak links anymore. Every guy can carry his weight. That makes a team a winner.”

I grinned and said, “I’m looking forward to the first game.” Then I turned and watched my teammates slowly file off the field.

Reggie looked up at me for a moment and asked, “I don’t really know if I should ask this, but I’m going to anyway, because I let my curiosity get the best of me. Is there something between you and Lowell? You guys looked a little chummy out there, and not just because of the thing at second base.”

I dug my hands into the pockets of my jeans and said, “I don’t really want to talk about details right now, but we’ve met before. I think we both just figured out where and how. I’ll probably know a lot more after tonight comes to an end.”

Reggie reached out for my shoulder and pulled me closer. He said, “Lowell has a few quirks, and the occasional grey mood, but I think he’s a good guy. I’ve known him for three years now, and he’s always at practice or a game unless he’s given advance notice. I think that only happened one time. You can depend on Lowell.”

I smiled back at him and said, “Hey, thanks. Say hi to Connor for me, and, like I said, after tonight, I’ll know a lot more.”

True to his earlier word, when I walked through the door at the Toolbox, I found out that Reggie was paying for the entire team’s first round of drinks. Lowell was on his own leaning up against the wall opposite the bar. He nodded when he saw me, and I joined him asking, “Can I pick up a drink for you? Beer? Something more stiff?”

He said, “A beer is great, and I’m not picky. Just bring me what you’re having.” Then he asked, “Would you like to sit at a table in the back? It’s quieter back there, and we can talk without needing to shout at each other.”

“Sounds like a plan.” I joined Marshall and Ian at the bar and waited for the bartender Claw to draw the two beers.

Just as I picked up the two beers and turned to look for Lowell, Marshall whispered in my ear, “If the two of you aren’t a couple yet, you should go on a date and explore the idea. I’ve got a gut feeling.”

I grinned and sipped at the beer while I made my way to a small table in the rear of the Toolbox. While I was seating myself, Lowell said, “It’s been awhile since that date, hasn’t it?”

I said, “Almost ten years. I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out right away, though. I don’t usually forget things like that.”

Lowell shrugged. “Nothing came of it. I forgive you for trying to block it out. I’m just glad I’ve finally gotten to see you again.”

I took another sip of the beer and said, “Likewise. So, I know it’s a cliche to ask, but how are you? You can answer that in so many ways, but it feels like the right thing to ask.”

Lowell set the beer down and said, “Some think I’m a jaded, skeptical bastard. How’s that for how I am? I tend to prefer realist with an adventurous streak.”

“Well, I’m all for creating our own self-definitions. You’ll just have to explain it to me.”

Lowell shrugged again. He said, “It’s just that I don’t think things happen for any particular rhyme or reason. They just sort of happen. I’m sure we can nudge it a bit, but a lot of the time it’s just sort of random. This is a perfect example. Who would have guessed I was going to run into you again on a softball team in Milwuakee?”

I didn’t agree with his assessment of life, but I didn’t want to drive him off when we were just starting to talk after so many years. Instead, I simply nodded and continued to listen.