I have a soft spot in my heart for the Tea Party.

I was in one for 10 years.

Of course, we were playing softball, but it was pretty much the same thing.

Those leagues and the local grassroots political swing have a lot in common. So much so, every time I'm covering political meetings somebody at the table reminds of my old teammates from way back when, and just like that I can't help but bask in a flood of sweet, sweet memories.

See, we used to pretend too. We used to uniform up and mimic our boyhood baseball idols by trying to swing like them, catch like them and throw like them. Were we athletes? Of course not. But we liked to pretend we were, and it was healthy and fun getting together with like-minded folks after work to blow off some steam.

Just like at the local political level, but their idols are the founding fathers.

They gather after work to blow off steam too with like-minded folk who use the meeting to mimic and quote their heroes.

"Hey wait," they shout after reading that. "We're getting involved and making a difference!"

I suppose that's one way to look at it. Of course, I suppose one of us could have been spotted by a pro scout and drafted, too.

See, Mickey Mantle could hit a ball 500 feet from either side of the plate. We pitched underhand.

Benjamin Franklin discovered electricity. You have a bumper sticker that says Freedom Isn't Free.

Notice the difference?

(Oops, almost forgot my disclaimer: Please don't read this if you get easily offended. Also know zero research went into this.)

Now, if the political groups start wearing colonial wigs to the meetings like we did with eye black and retire to the bar afterward to pat each other on the back then my theory is 100 percent dead on.

Until then, I'm only 90 percent sure, but I'm more than willing to run with it!

Without further ado, the softball man's guide to local politics!

• Comic Relief dude. At the table he pretends he's listening, but really he's just waiting for an opening in the conversation so he can unleash a Nancy Pelosi joke. On the field, he's the guy slamming his first beer during warm ups. Either way, love this dude, but one is enough. Any more than that, you're finishing last.

• The Young Dude. He ran for precinct chair with no political experience and now he's at the table starting every sentence with "I don't know how this works, but..." or "huh?"

This is the 16-year-old younger brother. You need a player quick and he's the only one available. You don't know if he owns a glove or even if you can swear around him but at least he's a warm body, right?

• I'm Over It Dude. In politics he's the quiet lawyer who knows all the bylaws, politely offers advice to the board, but is ignored, so he sits back in his chair with a bemused smile on his face. Meet the married buddy. He plays with the team because his wife encourages him to keep in contact with his old friends, but every once in a while he's looking at the rest of the guys yelling at the ump and thinking, 'Good God, grow up already.'

• The Lifer. Watches every show on Fox, studies bylaws and founder quotes, and now he's shouting everything he's learned across the table. He even mills about in the parking lot after the meeting to go over everything he said again. Say hello to every good Third Baseman. He can't make a house payment on time, but he still spends thousands of dollars every year on good bats! Why? Because it's his life, that's why. He's willing to take line drives off the chest and hangs in the parking lot after the game and says things like, "You don't have to work that early tomorrow, come on, let's talk about the game. I have some beer in the trunk of my car."

• The Level Headed One. In the middle of all the hooting and hollering there's one person keeping their cool; the secretary. All she's doing is taking notes. In softball, it's the girlfriend who sits in the dugout and keeps score. She doesn't care who wins or loses, and she brings the team Gatorade. I love both of you.

• Mr. Irrelevant. He's not a part of the group but he goes to the meeting to say things under his breath but loud enough for people to hear, like "No wonder our country is in a mess," when the group is confused with legal procedure. This is the 50-year-old manager dude. He's twice everyone's age, doesn't play, but wants to sit in the dugout and manage the lineup. Both of you, please go away.

• Too Serious Guy. This guy wears batting gloves, stirrups, bickers with umps, and when someone makes an error he throws his hat and kicks dirt. Boot the ball twice, and he throws his glove in the dugout. Hello Constitution guy! Everything Constitution guy says refers to, you got it, the Constitution! Sometimes he refers to it as the Constitution of the United States of America for extra emphasis and even pounds on table once or twice when he talks.

Fellas, let's dial it down a touch, OK? Neither of you are the profound leader you think you are.

• Way Too Serious Guy. On the diamond he does all the things the too serious player does but he's probably on steroids too, so he gets you into a bunch of "almost" fights with the other team. Meet the militia man! Militia man stockpiles weapons at home in case he has to go to war with the federal government. Dudes, dial it way down, and I mean waaaaay down. Nobody wants to be around you, nobody wants to play with you, we're all just too scared to say it to your face.

• When Is This Over Guy. He's the friend who isn't on the team but wants to hang out afterward so he sits in the stands and heckles his buddies who swing and miss. Who's this you ask? This is the reporter covering the meeting!

Ah, what a stroll down memory lane. Those who finished the column and are offended despite proper warning, I apologize. In the meantime, it might be time to come out of my softball retirement and join a team. Anybody need a pitcher?

Tom Hasslinger can be reached at 664-8176 ext. 2010 or e-mailed at thasslinger@cdapress.com.