Miracles happen during kickball season

My roots, thick as mangrove knees, run deep beneath the black muck of the Okeechobee. I come from settler stock, those rugged pioneers who first came to Florida in covered wagons and stayed to herd cattle and farm sugarcane. Like so many of America's earliest immigrants, my ancestors were Protestant, bringing their particular brand of pragmatic faith to the far reaches of the new world.

Though I have that same Protestant efficiency running through my veins, sometimes I think I would have done better as a Catholic. I love the stiff pageantry of Catholicism, the incense, the robes, and the headgear. What I love best is the Catholic fondness for miracles. I like the idea of a faith where magic is commonplace, where turning wine into blood and wafers into flesh is a weekly occurrence. In today's world, we need as much magic as we can get.

Which is perhaps why I continue to have a fondness for kickball, that elementary sport transformed into playtime for adults, where miracles happen every season. I've endorsed the World Adult Kickball Association's Southwest Florida-based Tarpon league before. For one, it's a great way to meet other people in the area, with its weekly co-ed matches and post-game socializing (the sponsoring bar is now Ichabad's on U.S. 41, previously of Dwyer's fame). But, beyond the practical get-out-there-and-meet-someone benefits, I've seen kickball work romantic magic on the most stalwart singles. Like my friend, Donovan.

The eternal bachelor, Donovan is tall, good looking, and smart, with a great sense of humor and a steady job. In short, everything women want. And the women want Donovan. I've never seen a man with such lady appeal: When he turns it on full-force, he becomes an unstoppable babe magnet. Like most guys with their choice of women, Donovan rarely settled for just one. He was the consummate player, using his magnetic charm to woo a host of hot ladies. Until kickball. And Courtney.

Donovan and Courtney were thrown together during the first game of the first kickball season, as my untested team Dunder Mifflin came up against Courtney's Kickaholics. With Donovan at the helm, we thrashed the competition, but not before Donovan had gotten a good look at the knee-sock-wearing blond playing for the opposition. At the post-game booze fest, Donovan ramped up his charm and spent the night sweet talking Courtney. When he walked her to her car at the end of the evening, my teammates and I gave each other a knowing look.

To our surprise, Donovan returned a few minutes later. "What's up?" we asked. "You're not going home with her?"

Donovan shook his head and held up a slip of paper with Courtney's phone number. "Not tonight. But we scheduled a date."

Donovan on a date? The Dunder Mifflinites stood with our mouths open. Could the magic of kickball morph our buddy into a committed boyfriend? Six months later, this poster boy for perpetual bachelorhood is still serious about Courtney.

If you're interested in launching your own in-field romance, you can sign up for the spring season at www. kickball.com/fltarpon. Registration ends Feb. 16.

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