Listening to the call on the radio was confusing. The announcer was watching the play and when it happened, he gargled out something that could not be understood. It took a few seconds to realize Northfield had gotten a hit, a run had scored and Northfield Lady Norse had won an eleven inning nail biter. An exciting ending.

          The next day I saw a cell phone video on Facebook. That was much more satisfying than hearing the announcer choke on his own words. The players exulting in the moment of victory was a sweet thing to watch. But in that particular video, a girl from the other team took a couple of steps away and bent double at the waist. I could feel the pain of the loss radiating off her. I felt a wave of despair. Personally, I had felt both emotions back in the playing days, so I could feel for both teams. I froze the picture and sat back. Incredible game, incredible girls on both teams. Sad someone had to lose.

          Then I looked at the Lady Norse. I thought of the times they had come so close, only to lose in the end and feel that wash of defeat. These are great girls, great teammates, who have suffered together and now are enjoying the sweet taste of victory. As of this writing, there is one more game. Maybe a state championship, maybe not. But whichever way that game goes, that eleven inning game may always stay in their minds as the game that defined them as the team that was the Lady Norse.

          2015. The funeral home was at the top of a hill and the parking lot was actually on the side of the hill. When it was snowing it could be a hard walk, but you lived with it in hill country. No snow on this day, though. Beautiful day in September. I was walking from the funeral home to building that housed our offices, when I heard someone getting out of a car on the lower end of the parking lot. No services that day, so I stood in the gentle sun and watched as the man began to walk up the hill. Was that….Ed? Ed Wolf? I called out to him, “Wolfy?” He looked up and grinned and called me something that is best not repeated here. We hadn’t seen each other since 1974. He got to the top of the hill and we embraced. We both had tears.

          We went inside and sat down. I got us both a coffee. Ed had gone into the Marines after high school. Through his sister I had heard of his event filled life. Forty years a Marine. Imagine that. Time spent in all the flareups around the globe. Embassy duty. Desert Storm. Anywhere, anytime a Marine was needed. He had found time to marry and have kids. His final posting had been in Hawaii. He had retired there and he and his wife chose to stay. Now retired, he was back in town for a couple of weeks to help his mother with a move from the old house to some place smaller. He had heard I was working at the funeral home and had stopped to visit.

          You can imagine the catching up! We had known each other since first grade. His career, my career, families, kids, adventures. Eventually we got around to talking about working the fields as kids, pranking teachers, different kids in school. He didn’t know Marvin and Greg had both died. A lot of stories and a lot of coffee. And then, after forty years, Ed asked the inevitable question.

          “You ever hear from the guys?”

          The guys? What guys was he talking about? A lot of the guys worked in the fields together. A lot of guys ran around together. A lot of guys made life miserable for the teachers. What guys?

          But I knew.

          “In this job? Sure. I see some every now and then.”

          And that began a different kind of conversation. The ‘guys’ he was talking about were the guys who overcame all kinds of odds to do something really great. They were, well, the guys.

          When our class were juniors, the class in front of us was chock full of really fine athletes. Ed and I and a couple of others of our class were the only ones who got to start on the varsity football team as juniors. We had talent at every position, but it wasn’t really a team. Back then we called them hot dogs. Every player wanted the glory. When that senior class came up everyone predicted state level play. Our Athletic Director scheduled bigger schools to play against that year so, when we beat them, we would move up in the rankings. But it didn’t happen. As I said, there were four of us who were juniors and we really wanted to be good. But the seniors wound up fighting and fussing and it was a mess. When they graduated, our great chance was gone.   

          Except now we had guys who had played together and worked together and hung out together and who, above all else, were a bunch of friends. At that time, if you scheduled a team to play against, you had to schedule them for the next year, too. It was called ‘home and home.’ So, they had scheduled these bigger schools for our super stars to beat, which hadn’t really happened, all the time knowing that the next year of the contract our team would get chewed up.

Only that didn’t happen, either. The first game of the season pitted us against a team whose quarterback would eventually play for the Miami Dolphins in a Super Bowl. We won. We had a couple of teams we blew out, but mostly, especially against the big schools, it was tight and hard fought. And victorious. We were playing teams we should not have been playing. We were playing way over our heads. And somehow, it was a really incredible season.

 Last game. When it was over, we trudged into the locker room. We had lost. A head at halftime, we had finally just run out of gas. Coach, as he wiped tears away, prayed (a great Christian man and the human witness who brought me to Christ) and then thanked us for an unbelievable season. And then it was quiet. No one talked. I looked across the room to Ed. Our eyes locked. He started to laugh. It spread. Everyone was laughing, slapping others on the back. Sure, we had lost, but it had been fun. No one else believed we could compete, much less win. Just a bunch of guys, a bunch of friends, a team. Some reporters came in and looked around in confusion. We ignored them. This was our moment…..

 Ed and I talked about the guys. We didn’t talk about that season or even about football. Just about the guys with whom we had grown up with and messed around with and who shaped some great memories with.

 Then it was time to part. I walked Ed to the door. We embraced and he headed down the hill. I watched until his car was out of sight. “Take care, buddy.”

 Just picking a couple of girls; someday, say forty years from now, Kenzie will be the head of a small health clinic. One of the people she supervises will come to her and tell her there is someone to see her. She will make her weary way to her office and there will stand Abby. Surprise and joy, there will be a tight hug, wiping away tears and both talking at once. Perhaps decades will have passed, but it will just seem like yesterday since they had seen each other. Coffee or tea will be produced and the talk will begin. Deaths and births and ‘can you believe she married him?’ They will laugh as only old girl friends can. It will be wonderful! And then, Abby will say, “Do you ever hear from the others?” What others is she talking about? Maybe a hint? But Kenzie will know. “In this job, yeah, I see most of them now and again.” And the conversation will change. Abby and Kenzie and ‘the others’ once climbed a mountain together. Oh, life had happened to all of them since. Good and bad and great, but there was this time, decades ago, when no one had given them much hope at the start. Volleyball and basketball, yes, but not softball. However, Abby and Kenzie and ‘the others’ were inspired. They and their coaches and their families believed. And it was an awesome run.

And then it will be time to part. Kenzie will walk Abby to the door. They will embrace and cry a little and then Kenzie will watch her walk away. Separated, but bonded. Forever.

I really hope that none of the Lady Norse look back at these two or three weeks and remember it as the high point of their lives. It would be awful to peak in high school. But it will be a unique time and should be held as such. They have done, and are doing, something amazing. I have to admit, back when their dreams ended on the basketball court, I sat back and thought about what a great group of ladies this was and it was too bad it was over. I wasn’t thinking about softball. As the years slip by there will be many, many times that will cause their spirits to soar.

But there will also be that time, with that team. It will be different. It will be lasting. It will be a part of what shapes their lives.

What a great bunch of ladies.