Softball: The Divergent Experiential Strains of HomoAthleticus
Dear People,
After four grueling weeks of banishment from our cherished Codornices homeland, the community frolicked anew with a glorious and triumphant homecoming under a brisk, baby blue sky. The infield clays were pristine, the all natural grasses were verdant, and in the wooded tundra beyond deep left, a giddy cackle of rutting yak brayed contentedly. Of course, I imagine that if you were on Chris Fure's team, the tenor of this joyous return was somewhat tempered by the harsh reality of my own side crushing his with a starkly efficient dose of welcome-back whoop-ass, 23-17.
As always, there was the usual range of varied athletic experience. I personally broke out of a vexing 30-year hitting slump while Triston slammed his way into the best batting performance of his brief seven-game career. Indeed, the solid singles to center just kept on comin', and I'm not telling you all this just because the Trister's main squeeze happens to be my niece. Oh sure, Sara recently passed on Berkeley for a year-long gig in East Africa, but it would be mere speculation on my part to suggest that as soon as she reads this, she'll be thinking “My God, he's Dutch, he's a biochemist and he hits like DiMaggio; What the fuck am I doing in suburban Kampala?”
Indeed.
In any case, there were others who endured the harsher end of life's rich aerobic pageant. As best I recall, Steve Bedrick was stoically manning right field in the top of the 8th when Pace hit a gentle fly ball heading straight his way. Initially it seemed like just another inevitable out for my side, but then suddenly, and for reasons I don't pretend to understand, the Steveinator began to topple sideways, as if his shoes were glued to the soil while a naughty invisible river rhino playfully pushed him over. That drunken image was disturbing enough, but a brief second later, Pace's genteel fly slammed into Steve's lower torso, thereby adding additional and painful injury to muscle, ego and score.
The point is that as deeply skilled but vulnerable athletes, we never really know what glory or humiliation awaits us for any given match. Yet I think we can all agree that life is risk and community is solace and imperceptible pachyderms are generally fairly rare, and therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond
1/14/11
Softball: Our Guy in Concert!
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there are three slots left.
Please bring $4 for the field, which for this week only includes a stirring post-game walking tour featuring the bus stops and manholes of historic El Cerrito…Raymond 845-7552
PS: Lest you forgot, our very own Steve Seskin-slugger, catcher and singer-songwriter extraordinaire-is playing tonight at the new Freight and Salvage...
http://www.freightandsalvage.org/steve-seskin-craig-carothers-don-henry