Age is all about perception

Mason slides in for a landing.

It's funny the sense we have of ourselves versus how others perceive us. This is especially true when it comes to age.

I was picking up Mason at baseball camp yesterday, the finale of the second week of the Cape Cod Baseball Club's Sandlot Camp. The last day of the camp is reserved for sliding practice, which like many things has become a lot more advanced than when I was at baseball camp nearly 30 years ago.

Back when I was attending the Mike Andrews & Jerry Moses Youth Baseball Camp, sliding practice consisted of hosing down a section of field to a quagmire state, and then letting everyone slide into the muck, mud-bowl style. A great time was had by all, though you were better off just throwing out your baseball pants at the end of it. No amount of extra-strength detergent was ever getting those pants looking clean again, unless they were a dark color.

For the modern version, though, there were two tarps, lots of soap and a hose, turning a section of the field into a giant Slip ‘N Slide. Fun and a bath! Laundry baskets everywhere were singing the praises of this advance in sliding practice technology.

When I arrived to pick up Mason, the sliding was just getting started. I set myself up next to the tarps to take a few pictures and videos of Mason with the Blackberry, and got to watch the various approaches. It was clear that the head-first dive got the best results, so long as the slider kept his or her mouth closed.

Right after Mason finished his second slide, one of the coaches shouted, "Sean, you going to take a turn?"

"Sure, why not!" I desperately needed a mid-afternoon Friday stress reliever. No better time than the present, I figured.

"This is going to be funny," Mason said. "Give me the camera." I showed him which button to press to take a picture, shed my wallet, keys and other pocket contents, and got in line with the rest of the campers, many of whom were giving me a raised eyebrow.

When my turn came, I took off in a full sprint. I was immediately time-transported back to my baseball days, grinning ear-to-ear, when from behind me I heard a tiny voice shout.

"Hey, look, the old guy is going!"

I had to laugh, but while in full stride, I was thinking, "Who you calling old, whippersnapper!?"

When I reached the landing strip, I gave the dive my best effort, remembering to keep my mouth closed. Observers later said it was more belly flop than dive, but it didn't feel that way while doing it. It felt graceful and powerful -- and wet.

Mason's photo of me nearing the end of my slide, with a face full of soap.

I kept the festivities to one slide. I need the backside to stay dry for the ride back to the home office. For a moment, though, I felt young and stress-free, no matter what the kids were thinking or shouting.