One Last Shot… A Real Life Baseball Story (Part 1)

I am fifty years old. I’ll turn 51 this summer. I’m no longer young. I’m not as flexible, strong, or physically able as I used to be. All of this comes with age. Of course. I’m not in the best shape of my life, but I’m not in bad shape. Last November, I ran the New York City Marathon. I was slow (4:47:47), but because I was coming off a torn Achilles and was under-trained, I was pleased. In the first Rocky movie, Rocky said, “All I wanna do is go the distance.” I went the distance. It was my 21st lifetime marathon. Not bad.

I also still play in two pretty competitive men’s softball leagues. One league is a 30+ league where I’m becoming one of the older players. I still play shortstop and handle myself well enough. The other league is a 50+ league where I play more of a utility role. That team won the league’s championship last year.

I love to play ball.

When I play ball and when I run in big races, I can often recapture the dreams of my youth… dreams that involved being a famous baseball player, specifically, a Yankee. When I make a great play, or deliver a clutch hit, or as people cheer me as I run past them in a big city, I can almost imagine what it would have felt like to be a Yankee. I like to share that I wore #2 as a kid, long before Derek Jeter wore it. It seemed, to me, at least, that the Yankees were holding the number for me.

Alas! It wasn’t to be.

While I still play ball somewhat well, and while I still run, I’m still not in my best shape. My chiropractor suggested the other day that I could afford to lose a few pounds. Ugggg. Middle-age is not always fun.

About a week ago, some of the dads of children in my school were talking about a baseball league – baseball, not softball – that they were creating a team for. It’s a 35+ plus league that only uses wood bats. As they talked, and I listened, I was invited to join the team. I wasn’t sure if these men were serious.

My first instinct was to say no and laugh off the idea.

I haven’t played baseball since I was 16 year old. That was my last year in any organized baseball league. I pitched that year (not all that well) on the JV baseball team for my high school.

I then found out that these baseball games will be played on Sunday mornings. That is when one of my softball teams plays. The conflict seemed unsolvable. But as we talked, I learned that this league starts in April and my Sunday Morning softball doesn’t start until late May or June. If they wanted me for part of the season, I actually could play at the start of the season and sporadically there after.

But I can’t play baseball any more.



Baseball has always been a big part of me. Much of who I am centers around baseball.

I still dream of being a Yankee. One day when I retire, I’ll attend a Yankees Fantasy Camp. But that’s years away.

As a dad, I taught baseball to my kids. And, for more than 15 years, I lived baseball as I coached all three of my sons through the majority of their recreation baseball league careers. I haven’t played baseball in a long time, but I haven’t been totally away from the game.

More reality then slapped me in the face – I then realized that since my children have grown, it’s been a long time since I even coached – six years at least. (Where does the time go?)

As the conversation with these men continued, I couldn’t help but wonder if I still had it – whatever that “it” was or might have been. I offered, “I am intrigued by the idea. I’m old, way too old. I haven’t played baseball in a long long time. I’m quite certain I can’t hit a baseball any longer. A softball, yes. But we play slow pitch or arc. I don’t think I can catch up to a fastball any longer.” (Truth be told, I could never hit a fastball.)

And then I suggested, “But if you DH me, I could probably…pitch.”

To my surprise, they all seemed to think it was a good idea. I was told, “If you want to pitch, you’re on the team.”

I had a lot to think about.

A few days later, I wrote the following to the team captains, “My fastball, by this point in my life, probably tops out at 15 MPH, my curve is nonexistent, and my knuckle ball doesn’t knuckle, but I can throw strikes, and lots of them.  If the batters hit the ball to my fielders, it just might work.  (I don’t envision many strikeouts…).

If you need a pitcher who has more heart than skill and you could accommodate me on the rare days off when my softball team doesn’t play, I’d be interested in taking the mound, if only once, for one last hurrah.”

Somehow even that didn’t scare them away. They said they’d still welcome me on the team.

But, I still wasn’t sure about playing.

As a result, two days later, last Friday, the first thing we did when I picked up Ethan from college for his Spring Break, was have a catch. I need to see how the old arm felt after a long winter’s respite.

It felt great!

We threw for about fifteen minutes before packing up the car and driving home.

We then threw again on Saturday in the front yard. The first few throws hurt in the way one’s arm always hurts the day after throwing. It’s a good dull pain that I remembered well. Then, the ol’ arm quickly loosened up and I still felt good.

But having a catch isn’t playing baseball.

On Sunday, Ethan and I went to the nicest full-sized baseball field in town so I could throw off the pitcher’s mound. It was cold and windy. It was probably no more than 42 degrees out. Still, I had to throw. I pitched from the wind-up and the stretch. I wasn’t as accurate as I remember being as a kid. I didn’t have much in my arsenal back then, but I could always throw strikes. Thirty four years later, I still didn’t a collection of pitches, but on this, my first time truly trying to pitch in decades, I struggled to find the strike zone. At least at first.

By the end of our throwing session, I was getting better. I kept tweaking my wind-up. I needed to find that old (very old) muscle memory. Sure, I threw batting practice as a coach, and I’ve thrown billions of pitches in backyard Wiffle Ball games, but throwing a baseball off of a mound was something new again.

As Ethan and I walked home, I said, “I’m not encouraged by how I did, but I’m also not discouraged. Maybe it’ll all come around.”

But, even with this, I didn’t commit to the team.

I was just living a pretend fantasy.

Until yesterday when the e-mail came.

“Dr. Sem, what size uniform shirt do you wear? And what number do you want?”

They really wanted me. I didn’t hesitate to respond.

I asked for uniform #2. That’s always been my number. I flirted with asking for #56 which was Jim Bouton’s* number, but in the end, I had to be true to me.

(*Jim Bouton had a short-lived Major League comeback in 1978 after being out of the big leagues for almost a decade. He then pitched in my area for many years in a semi-pro league lasting well into his late-fifties – always throwing his signature knuckleball.)

I immediately texted my wife and kids.

“I’m going to do it. I just agreed to play on the baseball team.”

Mike Trout may have just signed for over 400 million dollars, but I think I got the best baseball offer this winter. After 34 years, I’m going to be playing baseball again.

If only for one game…

I’m back.

As is my dream of putting on the pinstripes.


(This story is also published on


“Scattering the Ashes” Preview & Excerpt (Coming October 22, 2019)

My first novel, Scattering The Ashes, will be published on October 22, 2019 by Artemesia Publishing and is now available for Pre-Order here.

This novel tells the fictional story of Sam Holmes as he struggles though the aftermath of losing his father and having the responsibility and obligation of fulfilling his late father’s final request.

Readers will become attached to Sam Holmes as he seeks to find himself in this trying period of his life. Initial reviews of the novel have been very positive.

Baseball is one (of many) themes that forms the framework of the story. Throughout this year, leading up to the book’s release, I will share excerpts from the novel here on these pages and on my Yankees site:

The following is an except from Chapter 5. In this scene, early in the novel before his father passes, Sam Homes awakes in pain the morning after his longest training run as he is preparing for his first marathon – the New York City Marathon. He is feeling doubtful about his abilities as a runner. Soon the prospect of a fictional encounter with two former baseball stars changes his outlook on the day…


(From Scattering The Ashes (2019, by Dr. Paul Semendinger, with permission from Artemesia Publishing)

The next morning, after I swung my legs out of bed, I realized I could barely stand.  The plantar fasciitis in my foot screamed with pain every time I put even a tiny bit of weight on it.  I had never felt such pain.  Have you ever stuck hot needles into the bottom of your foot?  I haven’t either, but it sure felt like I had.  In addition to this foot agony, everything else, especially the fronts of my thighs, seemed to ache.  I wondered if I had pushed my body further than it was able to handle.  Was twelve miles my limit?  Maybe I wasn’t built for a marathon.  Dr. Alfonzo, my chiropractor (who is also a miracle healer), advised me to always stretch before a hard run and also to always ice this injury after the effort.  Why didn’t I listen to his advice yesterday?

Continue reading ““Scattering the Ashes” Preview & Excerpt (Coming October 22, 2019)”

Father and Son, College, Giancarlo Stanton, and Kit Kats

Earlier today, my wife and I brought our son Ethan (a big Yankees fan and the Design Manager and frequent contributor to this site) back to college for his sophomore year. 

I’m always a bit emotional and sad when I leave my kids at college.  A part of me always feels empty when I contemplate the weeks and months that they’ll be away.  I love when my sons are home, they make our home complete. 

I think the best part of my life is just being Dad. 

Continue reading “Father and Son, College, Giancarlo Stanton, and Kit Kats”

A Yankees Fan, A Red Sox Fan, and a Very Special Baseball Bat

(This story is also published at

We were in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, Amish Country, with many family members to celebrate my father’s 80th birthday.

Our family started to gather in the hotel lobby so we could head off to dinner.  Sitting at the center of it all, proudly wearing his Red Sox hat, was Dad, basking in the joy of togetherness.  He had his wife and children with him – and a few of the grandkids.  My dad loves his family even more than he loves the Red Sox (although he has loved the Red Sox longer than any of us.  Dad’s love of the Sox goes back to 1946.  He met my mom in the late 1950’s and my sister and I came more than a decade after that.)

Continue reading “A Yankees Fan, A Red Sox Fan, and a Very Special Baseball Bat”

Is This?

(This piece is included in my acclaimed  book, Impossible is an Illusion which is available on Amazon.  This version has previously been published here as well, but…it’s Fathers’ Day and it’s a story worth telling again and again.)


I love baseball.

My dad loves baseball even more than I do.

That’s where this story begins…and ends.  It’s what this story is all about.  Baseball.

The American Game.

The Great American Game…

Well, maybe it’s about more than that.  It’s about fathers and sons.

And baseball.


Continue reading “Is This?”

Opening Day 2018

It’s not quite forty degrees here in New Jersey.  It’s cold.  Hand stinging cold.  It’s the cold that makes your nose and ears hurt. 

Did I mention it’s April?  I think the fact that it’s actually spring makes the temperature outside that much colder.  

At least the sun is out, though the day will remain in the low-40’s.

Yet, even with the (close to) frigid temperatures, I am excited, very excited, unbearably excited, to get outside this afternoon.  Today is the Opening Day of our softball season.  

I just love to play ball.

Continue reading “Opening Day 2018”

Radio Star II

A few months ago, I shared how people who I will never know might be impacted by the words I read from my basement in the early hours before school each day.  I read a health report and share words of inspiration for a radio show in the Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania area. 

As a high school kid, when I dreamed of being a radio announcer, I thought I’d be doing things a little differently than what I’m doing now.  I also thought that if I was on the radio, I’d be talking about baseball – especially the Yankees.   

Continue reading “Radio Star II”

It Is!

“Is this Heaven?”

“It’s… Iowa”

from Field of Dreams


There is a Heaven.  I know it absolutely.  I have been there.  

Now, to be clear, I haven’t been to that Heaven, just one that, to me at least, might be awfully close.

There is a God.  I also know this absolutely.  God played a big role in making my trip to Heaven a reality.  


A few years ago I traveled to the legendary Field of Dreams in Dyersville, Iowa to have a catch with my dad.  I have often shared the story of how that trip came to be.  I wrote about it and have put it on both of my blogs.  The story has been published as part the book Impossible is an Illusion.  Titled “Is This?” it might be my most widely read piece (to date).  Many people, including a number of prominent authors and, I’m pretty certain about this, the President of the Baseball Hall-of-Fame have read that story.

But, I have never told the story about what happened on those magical days in Iowa in 2016 with my dad and my mom.  I shared all about our decision to go there, but I’ve never told the tale of the wonderful memories we created on a little baseball field in the middle of nowhere.

This, then, is that story…

Continue reading “It Is!”

Being a Baseball Detective

(This post was originally published on the Start Spreading the News Yankees blog.)

On Thursday night, SSTN writer Michael Saffer and I attended a live taping of Yankees Hot Stove at the Yogi Berra Museum in Montclair, New Jersey.  It was a great event. 

The theater/studio at the Yogi Berra is a great venue.  It’s small and intimate.  A person in the audience gets the sense that the presenters (in this case the Yankees Hot Stove Team) are actually talking with you – and at times they were.

Located in that studio is a replica Yankee Stadium scoreboard.  (See the picture above.)  Each time I attend an event at the Yogi Berra Museum, I wonder what game that scoreboard is supposed to reflect.  As such, I decided that I would figure it out using the wonderful tools at, my Yankees knowledge, and some common sense.

Continue reading “Being a Baseball Detective”

Saying Goodbye to Matsui & Meb

(This post can also be found on NYY_Report (“Start Spreading the News”):


We are sports fans.  There is something special and wonderful and unique about being a sports fan.  We love our teams and certain players.  We get excited by special moments.

 And when disappointment hits, it hits hard – and it often hurts. 

Continue reading “Saying Goodbye to Matsui & Meb”