1/11/06
Softball: Balls (The Education of a Squeamish Reader)
Dear People,
After several consecutive weeks of climactic terror, the sun shone bright on a sublime 22-21 display of taut aerobic merriment in which my side floundered, rallied hard, and then finally crushed Jonny’s team on the last hit of the game. Such a tingly denouement was one of unparalleled personal satisfaction, if for no other reason than, just one inning before, we had given up a go-ahead run in the most disturbing display of spazz-laden defense to which I’ve ever had the honor of contributing.
Yes, Brad’s languid 8th inning single to left was unexpectedly enhanced by Broh’s throw past Kira at 2nd, but thanks to my ceaseless training, I was right there with masterful backup at 1st. Unfortunately though, I tend to suffer a certain lack of "control" when throwing under stress, and thus as Brad brazenly darted toward 3rd, I focused hard, took a deep breath, and then promptly hurled the ball straight toward the majestic Redwood trees beyond the left field line.
Thankfully, Ira was another fleet-footed gazelle that fine morn’, and thus as Brad rounded 3rd and sprinted toward home, our pre-nuptial hero quickly recovered the ball and braced for his rendez-vous with excellence. The problem, alas, is that he promptly transmorphed into me, which is to say that he inexplicably hurled the orb in question 10 feet over Chris’s nobly outstretched glove. The end result was a both a single-turned-homer and a glorious three-overthrow-play of uncommonly stark retartitude. I still get chills.
In any case, the communal pride that I felt so early in this New Year got me thinking about the passage of time and my personal goals and values and all that insufferable meaning-of-life kind of crap. And all this cognitive ferment has been transpiring while I update my knowledge of the latest advances in assisted reproductive technologies for the 3rd edition of Taking Charge of Your Fertility (coming this Fall, along with the 1st edition of Cycle Savvy, to a fine bookseller near you). The point is, of course, that I’m a barren man whose clippage dates back over 20 years, and while I don’t regret the vaz, I sometimes get teary-eyed and forlorn when I think that I’ll never have a son to whom I could one day say "Yeah, we made three errors in a single play, but your pa knew how to maintain team-cohesion, so we kicked their butts anyway."
Well, lest you think that this missive doesn’t arc, it just so happens that I’ve now learned of major developments in the field that mean I’ll no longer have to rely on the invasive uncertainties of a tube-soldering reversal to regain my seed! Yes, in a breakthrough that redefines the very notion of choice, it is now possible to undergo a type of testicular sperm extraction in which the entire testes are surgically split wide open so that the individual spermmeisters can be observed, sampled and sucked out live from their tiny little abodes! Sure, I’ll need to talk to Wendy, but at this point, all I can say is sign me up! And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond
1/11/05
Softball: Chez Whatever
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now, it is full. As always, please contact me ASAP if you commited and have to cancel, and for those who were so brutally locked out, you’re welcome to call later to see if any slots have opened up.
This week’s field fee is just $3, and that includes a delightful Escarole salad with crème fraîche and Roquefort toasts. And no, I’m not saying that just to flout the limits of pretension when it comes it to the pluralization of comestible noncount nouns…Ray 845-7552
1/15/06
Softball: 9:40AM: The Glories of Proper Drainage
A tad soggy but totally playable/Cowardice is for suckers/See ya at 11....
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