1/23/02

Softball: The Eerie Confluence of Sport and Sin

Dear People,

Congratz to all on last week’s admittedly pathetic but still curiously arousing 35-11 mockery of the very concept of "even on paper." Frankly, my innards were already replete with despairing bile by the time the 7th inning rolled around, but as captain, I had no choice but to rally the faithful in spite of the totally degrading 21 run deficit. "Look" I told Teri as we prepared to bat, "there’s still three innings, and it’s not like we’re ‘bad people’ " [I gently chuckled, and gestured to show the quote signs with my animated little fingers].

She smiled bravely, but then as we both looked up to the rugged hillage behind the benches, we saw Micky crouching behind a bramble bush, his red labial smackers puffing stealthily on his first fetid inter-inning cigarette in more than two years. Teri sensed immediately what was happening and nearly broke down in tears, and then weepily revealed two cubes of smoked veal that she had been secretly gnawing on to sustain her strength. Her eyes met mine, and suddenly I felt as if I had actually fallen into an aerobic Twilight Zone of shameless team turpitude.

Soon, the whispered confessions came so fast that I can’t remember who said what. A loyal outfielder admitted to understating his taxable income by 5%. Somebody had voted for Reagan in ’84. And then Frank suddenly admitted that just the previous evening he had been playing Jeopardy with some friends when Alex Trebeck announced that "This historic city is the capital of Romania," and desperate to scream first, he spastically yelled out "Rome." Personally, I was most disgusted by that last one.

Of course, I could no longer conceal my own despicable foibles. And thus, as Mark struck out to end the 7th, I turned to my fellow miscreants and quietly conceded that not only do I not recycle cans, but that my total serum cholesterol was 308, and moreover, I wallowed in the needless risk. No, it was clear that as a team, we were not "good people" in any rational sense of the phrase, and for that we would now pay a wrenching price in blood, dignity and score.
_______________________________

I was tempted to not have a game this week because your faith in my ability to organize two well-balanced teams has undoubtedly plummeted. Fair enough, though just for the record, I vehemently reject the analysis of some on the winning contingent who claim that the only reason we lost so badly is that I inexplicably chose to include on my team only those players who "suck." I would respectfully argue that these games happen, and that’s just the way it is.

In any case, while I would normally give your cynicism a fortnight to mellow, it turns out that this weekend is the 659th anniversary of the day that Clement VI's bull "Unigenitus" officially ratified the belief that Indulgences owed their potency to the Pope's dispensation of the accumulated merit of the Church! Oh sure, Martin Luther would cause another big stink over the presumption of it all just 200 years later, and in all candor, I don’t even know what it means, but I do like the use of the noun "bull," and I certainly know when a date cries out to be recognized. And therefore, there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond



2/24/02

Softball: Another Closure, Early and Harsh

Dear People,

There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, but alas, for those who dallied, it is now full. As always, feel free to call for info on late cancels, weddings, etc…

The field fee is $2, and that includes both a complimentary post-game diphtheria booster AND three pounds of organic larding salve.

Finally, there are distressing rumors of approaching rain. If there is significant wetage between now and then, assume nothing and check email or voicemail around 10:05 Sunday, since Kleeberger may be available….. Raymond 845-7552

Softball: Sunday 10:05 AM: The Sensual Allure of Soaked Shoes!

Look, I know you people hate uncertainty, and that the East Bay skies are still cluttered with insidious patches of nimbostratic grayage. Nevertheless, as your organizer, I simply cannot accept unseemly cowardice.

The hard truth is that Kleeberger is apparently being taken by various pre-pubescent factions as I write these very words, and since Frank is not being backed by special forces, we can’t count on that field. Therefore, we will meet at our beloved Codornices, which is admittedly very wet, but UTTERLY playable (basically). Wear yer rubbers/See ya there….Ray 845-7552

PS: There are now two slots left: Frank’s cell: (415) 290-8897