It’s a beautiful mid-August Sunday on the Maine coast. The sun is climbing toward high noon, the temperature toward the high 70s.
On the sandy shore of Ogunquit, beach sports rule. It’s low tide and beach goers have 3½ miles of hard-pack sand at least 100 yards wide to play on.
Runners clutching water bottles navigate through the tangle of sun bathers, blankets, towels, chairs, umbrellas, tents, canopies, wagons, coolers, and strollers clustered on both sides of the entrance to the beach. Some, no doubt, will make the 7-mile round-trip to Wells.
Walkers, too, leave their footprints in the sand.
Two 60-ish guys wear their baseball gloves and play catch, peeling the years back with each throw to when they were kids trying to spin a curve ball.
A father and daughter standing at water’s edge toss a football back and forth. From a distance she appears to be a young teen, tall and lithe. She is good, catching every pass he throws and returning the ball in a pretty good spiral. Occasionally, she pirouettes, carefree for the moment.
A different game of catch occurs beneath a blue canopy. An overweight dad and overweight son sit in folding chairs about eight feet apart and toss a toy football back and forth. America in 2019.
Nearby, a couple plays a leisurely game of Kadima, the soft thwack!of paddle striking ball warning passersby to tread carefully.
A tanned and oiled body builder, boasting pecs that could have been chiseled from the ledge of Bald Head Cliff just south of the beach, and biceps large enough to strain the seams of any shirt smaller than XXL, struts arm in arm with a female companion built almost as solidly as he. Together they might have six ounces of body fat.
Father and son kite fliers struggle to get their dragon aloft in the off-shore breeze and finally give up.
In the water, wet-suited surfers gather at one end of the beach in search of the perfect Maine wave. Boogie boarders and body surfers ride small breakers to the beach. A few skim boarders slide along as the waves peter out. A lone paddle boarder strokes beyond the surf line.
The water temperature is 54 degrees, which leads me to believe that anyone staying in for more than 10 minutes is from Quebec.
Off shore, a sloop under main and jib sails gracefully by while a jet ski varooms along, throwing up a rooster-tail wake.
Miles away, the Patriots are in pre-season. The Red Sox are chasing the post-season. College football teams are preparing to kick off. But on this mid-August Sunday on the Maine coast, beach sports seem more important, and a lot more fun.
