Softball: Discomforting Disclosures in the Process of Aerobic Governance

Dear People,

It would be easy to tell you that Ren, Jay, Pace, Jim, Chris Fure and Mike Davey joined me for a succulent brunch of crepes, haggis and fresh spotted dick, and then just leave it at that. Alas, though, the hard reality is that I need to come clean, for I cancelled last week's game on the specious premise that Doppler images were projecting ceaseless and bitter rain from that morning to later that evening, when in fact, it was a more nuanced and ambiguous forecast upon which a truly hearty folk would've simply scoffed and shown up to play. And yet, even though I wanted to make that happen, the fact is that my innards began to quiver as the first panicky emails began rolling in around 8:35AM, with their unseemly calls for "prudence" based on everything from a sore throat to a moisture-sensitive spleen.

Now in fairness, a couple stalwarts wrote in urging me to hold strong, yet I was generally dismayed by the rapidly expanding divergence of our national reputation for stout communal resolve with the curious sense of dread coming from our cornucopia of individual drizzaphobes. By 9:00, I was sitting in front of my computer paralyzed by abulia (as I'm wont to be), and I stayed like that until exactly 9:23AM, when I got Jay's brief yet compelling cyber plea: “No way, Ray. It's cold as fuck out there.” In fact, a couple tiny patches of blue sky were already visible, and even worse, I hadn't even checked to see if the field was truly the malarial suck-swamp that I assumed it to be. Nevertheless, and frankly, like one of those shamelessly craven base-pandering political skanks who fear nothing more than fear itself, I caved right then and there. Yeah, as a venerable community which needs robust and honorable leadership, we have a lot to ponder.

Indeed, that's hardly all. Just the Saturday before, I ran into the Daveyator at our local pedicure shop. He happily told me he had just completed his 8th and final round of both chemo and radiation, and after five arduous months away, he was hoping to get back on the field. I, however, told him that we were already full for that weekend's game, and that he'd have to start at the back of the wait list just like any other tarry-inclined whiner. That's what I told a friend who was still in the process of kicking cancer's ass! Now, does this make me a soulless bureaucratic monster? I honestly don't know.

But I do know that just one week before that, I shut down an eruption of mid-game bickering with an unappealable fiat based not on what I actually thought happened, or even what I thought was logical (as I claimed), but rather on what would help squelch the momentum of a nearly imminent blowout. In other words, I used cynical Nixonian means for ethically nebulous ends. Of course we need to accept that such revelations require a response, and that's even if just thinking about it makes us all feel unclean.

I suppose the easy answer would be to gently tell Jay that his dispositive tentativity has consequences, and that while sitting out the next 25 Sundays in contemplative atonement seems harsh, it's a small price to pay for the triggering of a match denied. Of course, that would be the easy solution and obviously the most popular, but in the end, we as a recreational people must face the fact that it's my own claim to leadership that now lies splayed nude before you-cowardly indecisive and monstrous to be sure, and yet surprisingly well positioned to exploit your utterly profound indifference. And therefore there will be a game at Codorncies this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning. . . Raymond

2/7/14

Softball: Sun King

Dear People,

There will (hopefully) be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there are still two slots left.

Please note: Unless it's raining that morning or it rained heavily overnight, Codornices will have likely drained perfectly well by game time. I mention this because my sources at the Weather Desk at the Latvian Counsel in Livermore insist that there will be only moderate drizzling through Saturday evening and then glorious inter-stormette sun through Sunday afternoon. SO, and precisely because we are a stout and hearty folk, you should assume nothing until you get email clarification that morning, by 10:15 latest.

Finally: Assuming we play, this week's field fee is just $5, and that includes a rare post-game tasting of French, English and Japanese sea salts presented in Raynaud porcelain collection pieces . . . Raymond 845-7552

PS: Happy 50th: A two-video look at zeitgeist in motion . . .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwkve8s1dNI

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gR9JMwzxybE

2/9/14

Softball: 7:44 AM: Comfort Food ;-( . . .

Dear People,

I miss the drought. In any case, last night I happened to come across this quote by the great Frank Lloyd Wright . . .

Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature. It will never fail you.

Well, the man may have been an exceptional architect, but it's quite clear that he was also a blithering idiot.

Alas, I have no choice but to cancel today's game due to the barbarity of the current storm. Despair not!- we'll frolic anew next week, under the blazing winter sun.

In the meantime, if you'd like to join my brother Ren and I for a let-us-seek-solace brunch at 11 at the Crepevine (at Shattuck and Cedar), please let me know by 10:30 latest so we can save enough seats.

Back to bed. Patience . . . Raymond