The two slow-pitch softball teams for which I play have distinctly different characters.

One wants to win but also doesn't have a lot of superstars. The other is made up of good players who sometimes don't play well together.

I pitch for both teams, and this week's games went pretty well for me.

Last Wednesday, the Pink Sox of St. Paul won both games of a doubleheader, which surprised me. I pitched one game and played right field in the second.

We blew out our beer-drinking opponents in the first game 16-4, and I had a K. (There's no strikeouts in softball! Ha!)

Mr. Fenger, Justin's dad and a longtime friend of mine, pitched the second game, and we won 15-14 in a come-from-behind thriller. With a five-run deficit and two outs in the seventh and final inning of play, Ryan Forsman started a rally. The hits just kept coming.

I also threw out a wayward runner between first and second bases. Forsman was playing right-center field and a flyball hit the ground and darted under his glove. Luckily, I was backing him up. It was the only ball I played in the field that game. I had been bored by inactivity and was happy to gun down an errant runner. This game marked the first time I'd played outfield for more than one inning in a single game since junior high.

It think I was 2-for-5 hitting in the two games.

Last Thursday, Hoggsbreath of Blaine -- the better, more serious team, lost both of its games.

One was a blowout. We got 10-runned and had a long wait before our next game.

In the other game, I gave up a grandslam to a guy to whom I shouldn't have even pitched. That was the killer.

I struggled on the mound, to be honest. I pitched both games, and both umpires had strike zones the size of a softball. Hopefully, this isn't indicative of the league's umpiring as a whole, because I was not impressed.

If I remember right, I was 1-for-4 hitting with a run scored as a pinch runner. So that was kind of disappointing. Believe me, I'll be hitting much more.