This being Christmas
Eve, you wouldn’t think I’d be having a travel-softball flashback, but it came
ahead of Santa, anyway, courtesy of the Tribune Travel Section. The trigger had nothing to do with softball
per se.
No, it was a story on
“Underground America: from holiday lights to a salt museum, subterranean
surprises await.” The first stop on our
underground tour was Hutchinson, Kansas, with its 175 miles of salt caves some
650 feet below ground. To the best of my
knowledge, there are no softball fields down there. Above ground, though, is another story.
After Clare’s junior
year of high school, which featured a nice .425 batting average, the new travel
coaches pushed to go to the end-of-season nationals’ tournament in Hutchinson
for reasons they never bothered to explain.
In some ways, this would have been perfect, because these two guys
tossed my daughter into the proverbial hole that summer. But at least it didn’t happen in Kansas.
Parents and players
rose in revolt, so we ended up spending a week in Salisbury, Maryland. That’s where one of the coaches felt the need
to tell Clare she’d never hit in college.
That’s what you call real leadership (just kidding). So, as I watch the snow gently falling on a
late Sunday morning, I can only hope that guy ended up in Hutchinson, way down
in Hutchinson, that is.
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