My right knee was hurting by the second half of the second game.

My plantar fasciitis was being felt every time I ran to base or to the outfield.

The ol’ lateral epicondylitis was acting up, too.

And by the time I hit the parking lot, it was clear I had pulled a muscle in my lower back.

But it was a blast!

I’m talking, of course, about the second annual Men’s Softball League reunion.

Back in the 1980s and into the ‘90s Fountain Hills didn’t have much in terms of parks and recreation facilities.

Golden Eagle Park didn’t exist yet. Neither did the combined Fountain Hills High/Junior School. Desert Vista Park was not in existence.

Fountain Park had a rickety old playground and a bunch of grass – nothing else.

The only thing around was Four Peaks. It basically had one and a half fields. One had the dimensions of a softball field – sort of – while the other could be used for some Little League practices, but that’s about it.

The lighting, well, it sucked.

But it’s all we had.

There weren’t too many recreational opportunities, either, other than golf.

And so Don Lawrence, Jim Elco and a few other guys got together to form a Men’s Softball League.

In its heyday, the league had 16 teams and two divisions. We used to run one to two pages of game summaries in the paper each week as coaches tried to trump each other with ESPN nicknames, statistics, threats, quotes and clever write-ups.

Dynasties were formed long before duck calls were quacked on TV, and some local teams traveled the state playing tournaments on weekends.

Men’s softball became the social event of Fountain Hills. First you’d go to the games, then you’d go out for a beer afterward. It was life.

But of course things change.

Guys get married, take new jobs, move out of town, start having kids; the demographics change.

And so now a bunch of graybeards are relegated to light-hearted war stories about the good ol’ days. The legs definitely don’t move like they used to. Reflexes are gone. For some of us, the beer bellies now get in the way. Stamina – what the heck is that? Instead of wives coming to watch us play, the grandkids come out to watch an ancient sport played (sort of) by ancient men.

There was a time I would often play four games of softball in one night – two early ones in Fountain Hills, two later ones in Tempe.

Despite that, however, I barely survived two games on Saturday. My main objective: To walk away without a major injury…I was mostly successful on that front.

Some of these guys I haven’t seen for 15 years or more.

But it didn’t take long to get back in the groove, to pick up the ribbing where it was left off.

I discovered I can still eat sunflower seeds with the best of them.

It may take us weeks to recover, but at least for a few hours we rekindled our youth a little bit.

Hmmmm…..maybe I can do this. Senior softball? 50-plus?

Eh, first I gotta get this pulled muscle healed. And that knee. And…