2/4/15

Softball: Hormonal

Dear People,

My team flattened Anthony's with the cold and callous efficiency of a runaway steamroller at a desert-floor scorpion orgy, 10-5, and I'm not saying that just because grotesque visual metaphor is sometimes the only way to capture the stark severity of an opponent's staggering underperformance. Indeed, the Antman's contingent included Pace, Tucker, Jim McGuire and Alan Shabel, and yet Steve Bedrick held all that frightful firepower in check with his masterful blend of curve, knuckle and unabashedly deflated gonadal balls. Yeah, gonadal balls.

For the record, our triumph was all the sweeter since I was able to finesse a rebellion within our own ranks. More specifically, Michael Davy's sassy inner-child inexplicably burst forth with curiously impassioned demands for some kind of tactical exemption from the standard 11-person sit-out rule, and yet with no obvious catcher on our side and thus two simultaneous rotators complicating the managerial task at hand, the Daveyator's rationale for mollycoddling seemed somewhat confuddled. Moreover, while it's fair to say that the carefully distilled thrust of his case initially appeared to be a quasi-plausible appeal to maintaining maximal vigilance against the ceaseless dangers of the Shabelmeister, a more robust psycho-semantic analysis simply suggests that in the end, Mikie no like not playing. Traditions of rotational etiquette aside, I so totally get it.

The point is that I'm an intensive and long-time observer of both the broad parameters of the human condition in general and our magnificent league of irrefutable nutjobs in particular, and thus I happen to know that we never back down from potential threats to our communal essence, be it from the weather, the city or even the ceaseless and utterly unacceptable aging of our finest athletes. And therefore there will be one final pre-Codornices game at Oakland's magical Bushrod Field-or possibly one of Cal's astroturf fields if the stupid rains flood the latter-this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond

2/6/15

Softball: The Delicate Craft of Managing Uncertainty

Dear People,

There will hopefully be a game at Bushrod Park (or possibly Underhill or Witter Astroturf Field) this Sunday at 11, and as of now, there are still six slots left.

Now look, I'm not gonna sugarcoat it; A hard rain's a coming, and she ain't partial to outdoor sport. However, every fiber of my being says it will soon taper off and they'll be gorgeous sun breaking through on Sunday, so if you're still on the fence, stop indulging your abulia, be an organizational mensch and make that commit! (For the record: This past December, it rained for 200 straight days, and yet we didn't cancel a single game. Just sayin').

I'll be checking the three possible fields on Saturday afternoon for puddles and unlocked gates, and will update you then with as much useful info as possible. In the meantime: Pluck….Raymond 845-7552


2/7/15

Softball: Nature (A Preemptive Release from our Inevitable Hosing)

Dear People,

Given that it's drizzling anew as I peck, and I just got back from Bushrod and she is already a hideous malarial suckswamp, and Witter Astroturf Field is locked shut and Underhill is probably reserved by Cal soccer players and there is a 90% chance of rain tomorrow morning (according to the statistically obsessed climo-nerds at sfgate.com, and others of their sagacious ilk), I've decided that it's best to already cancel tomorrow's game so you can make other Sunday plans-such as a spontaneous cozy afternoon of semi-nude indoor twister and bourbon. Call me a craven organizational shell of my former self if you must.

The good news: Sunny climes from Monday on and next week at the homeland!

Patience....Raymond

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