Nothing sparkles like a baseball diamond

Diamonds are a girl's best friend. So sang Marilyn Monroe in 1959, and I couldn't agree with her more. Because it is that time of year when my thoughts turn to diamonds - baseball diamonds, that is.

I went to the first practice of my co-ed softball team last week, which means that summer is officially here. I've played softball for most of my life, starting as an 8-year-old in fast pitch and moving on to slow pitch as I became more - let's say, seasoned.

I hadn't played for a long time, until two years ago when my grown son invited me to join his co-ed team. At the time, I complained to a friend that "I don't want to play, I don't even know where my glove is, I don't have time, my summer is too full already."

She shook her head and said, "Are you crazy? Your son wants to play with you. Shut up and buy a mitt."

So I did. And I have to tell you, it has been great to be back. I'm creaky and slow around the bases, and I sometimes shy away from the hard grounders, but every time I step on the field I smile.

The complications of life fade away like magic, and for several hours, things get really simple. Catch the ball, throw the ball, hit the ball.

I have to admit that in addition to being a player, I'm also a fan. I don't know many other people who check mlb.com whenever they make a business trip to a franchise city. And I definitely don't know anyone else who has kept score for nearly every game of the entire Moose Dropping Festival One-Pitch softball tournament (more than once).

As a result of this goofy dedication, I've seen Ichiro snag the long ball in Seattle; saw Chipper choke in Atlanta; witnessed Mandingo mojo in Talkeetna; watched the Tigers tear it up in Detroit; narrowly missed a foul ball in Baltimore; cheered as Sammy sent it sailing in Chicago; and this week I watched the Cubs rob one from the Pirates in Pittsburgh.

What is the fascination? Maybe its because baseball is a metaphor for life - the odds are against you, but sometimes you still hit it out of the park.

Maybe its because softball is something that the whole family can enjoy together - it is a lifetime activity. Go to Bumpus field in Wasilla three nights a week and you'll see fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, aunts, uncles, all sorts of extended family playing ball together.

Then again, maybe the appeal of softball is that it is a smorgasbord for the senses: the sound of the ball hitting that sweet spot on the bat; the smell of freshly mown grass; the taste of sunflower seeds and cold beer; the feel of broken-in leather; and the sight of friends not seen all winter.

Or maybe I like to play because it is summer in Alaska and I don't need an excuse to stay outside.

Whatever it is, I know I'm not alone. There are plenty of us who, while we wouldn't turn down a big rock set in platinum, get more of our sparkle from a different kind of diamond.

You know who you are. You're the ones who have watched "A League of Their Own" a dozen times and you know that Crash Davis hit his dinger and hung 'em up. You are the T-ball coaches, the Little League managers, the diehards who play in the men's or women's league on one night and the co-ed league on the next.

Even though she was singing a different tune, I suspect that Marilyn might have understood more than she let on in 1959. She did marry Joltin' Joe DiMaggio after all.

When all is said and done, all of us just love the game. And we know this much is true: summer is fleeting, but diamonds are forever. Play ball.

Sammye Pokryfki lives and writes in Wasilla.