Maybe they should change the name of the MSMABA. That stands for Minnesota Senior Men’s Amateur Baseball Association, a wordy title that stands for the over-35 group of teams I’ve been involved with for over 25 years. I argued at the beginning that it should be MSBA, for Minnesota Senior Baseball Association, because that would be simpler. But maybe “Senior Moments” would be the ideal name.

With the painful demise of the SeaFoam Hawks to something more of a rebuilding hopeful team for the future than a contender, we have depended for a few years on a bit of an upsurge at state tournament time to make the long winter easier to endure before trying again. This past season, we had a diversity of talent. When we had all our top players on the field, we could compete with anybody; when we didn’t, we couldn’t. My guys would always say it was still fun, to which I would counter that it can be fun while winning, also.

When it came time to schedule the two-weekend state tournament, I made one request of the league. If we were going to be scheduled on Friday, could we get the late game, because we had three players who were working late and would miss the earlier game? The result: We were scheduled for 6:30 p.m., the earliest game, in Prior Lake, with Interstates 35W and 494 under construction, and the likely alternative of Hwy. 169 closed down to one congested lane. That meant we had to play without the left side of our infield, including two of our top three hitters, and we got hammered 10-0 by New Hope, a good team.

We had to come back and play an early game on Saturday against the K-Town Outlaws from Kensington. We were missing a half-dozen players because of the hour, so we were down to nine players. I played second base, and I moved Sam, our first baseman, to right field, and played Jay, our backup relief pitcher, at first base. Mike, our first-game pitcher, played shortstop, and Matt, our left-fielder, went to third base for my son, Jack, who was stuck at work. You could call it a makeshift lineup, and I was something less than confident.

But Gary pitched a masterful game, and we played our best game of the season, winning 6-2 and outhitting K-Town 15-3. Unbelievable. Personally, it had been a tough season for me: after years of being comfortable making big plays that might help us win, I realized I might make a misplay that would cost us a game. But on that hot afternoon, I hit two fastballs squarely to left for my best two hits of the season, and Jay, at first base, hit three shots among our 15.

That brought us back all flushed with confidence for this past weekend, where we had our top guns back, to face an Edina team we had beaten early in the season. This time, their big left-hander screwed us into the ground with a great curveball, and we were unable to make up a late deficit, losing 5-3. Mike Snow, back on the mound, pitched one of his best games of the season, giving up only four hits, but we wasted his effort.

In the world of bracketing, we wound up playing our final game Sunday against K-Town, and it was a disaster that started manifesting itself over Saturday night. Around midnight, I got a text message from former Gopher hockey star Jay Moser, our shortstop and No. 3 hitter, saying he had wrenched his back, couldn’t move, and wouldn’t be able to play the next day. I was counting on him to back up Gary, our pitcher. Then I got a text from Gary, who said he was injured working on a rock wall late Saturday, and definitely would be unable to play, let alone pitch Sunday. With Jack, our third baseman and next in line to pitch, facing an important meeting at work, we were in bad shape for our finale. Mike, our speedy center-fielder, was solid, as was Sam at first base. Matt and Huck, our top two rookies, were also set, as was big Steve, who has become a good catcher while constantly begging for the chance to pitch, and Derek, who faces a weekly battle with his wife about whether he should be freed to play.

As I drove from Duluth to Shakopee for the game Sunday morning, I was almost constantly on the phone. I was about a half-hour from Shakopee when Jack informed me he could get free to play, but he was in Oakdale, on the far east end of the Twin Cities, and he had damaged a suspension piece on his car and couldn’t drive it that far. I immediately called our players already in the dugout and told them to start without me, and I turned abruptly to go pick up Jack.

Negotiating construction highlights on the roads to Shakopee, we missed the start of the game, and our team, playing with eight players, was trailing 4-1 when we arrived. Jack ran onto the field and took third base, while I hauled the equipment belatedly to the dugout. With no warm-up, Jack got up twice and got two hits. I went in at second base, and got up twice without two hits. We lost, 6-1. Most impressively, Mike Snow said he felt fine, instead of exhausted, and pitched all the way for the second day in a row. Again he gave up only four hits, and for the second day in a row we wasted his effort.

I thought it seemed pretty hot, which I attributed to anxiety, then I heard the temperature was an all-time record 97 degrees in Shakopee, with a heat index of 115.

My plan was to hang it up after this season, to turn over the equipment and the anxiety to some younger player closer to the scene in the Twin Cities. After we were done, though, a half-dozen players said how much they were looking forward to next season, and pleaded with me to continue. I didn’t commit. But like an unspecified addict, after a terrible year hitting, I had gotten three hits in two tournament games—more than I had attained all season. Nothing makes next year look better than that.