Softball: The Fear Factor
Dear People,
Michael Davey's team staved off my own in a grueling aerobic donnybrook, 12-9, and the indisputable truth is that my own performance was so utterly horrific that I alone must be held accountable for the tragedy that befell us. Not only did I get picked off in a totally preventable rally-killing 7th-inning double play, but I also grounded out once and popped up twice, and worst of all, I let virtually every line drive hit toward 1st dart right past or even under me, as if I were nothing more than a floundering managerial sieve. Yeah, for all nine innings I sucked and sucked hard, and yet just between you and me, I have never felt so vital and alive.
Truth be told, I always feel a tad queasy when I'm playing 1st and the Daveyator's at the plate, 'cause he's one of those eerily beefy left-handed sluggers who always stares me down cold in the seconds before he swings. In fact, he scowls at me, Elvis style. I don't take it personally, of course, and yet I can't help focusing on the fact that that he almost always aims that lethal orb for the cupless shelter of my very seedage, barren though she may be.
In any other social setting, Michael would be charged with aggravated assault. Yet there he was in the top of the 3rd, cheered on by his peeps as he rounded the bases, while I sat frozen by the sheer velocity and yaw of a blistering hit that was clearly struck with assassinative intent. So sure, I was an affront to the athletic integrity of this entire league, but in fairness, I was playing traumatized and tremulous (within a broader emotive state of feeling utterly vital and alive).
Look, I get it. When a despicable Burmese python stumbles upon a precious but gimpy little water rabbit, it doesn't think to itself “Oh, I'd like some dinner, but this wouldn't be fair” (well, at least most don't). We are our nature, our roles in the mystical Darwinian chain, and far be it for me to challenge all that at this late date. Yet I also assume that we as a species are a bit more evolved than the totality of our barbaric inheritance.
More specifically, when viewed in the proper psychoathletic context of our fraught recreational milieu, I think we can all agree that if there is a player amongst us who must carry the burden of his festering shame and guilt, that player is Mikie, and certainly not me. And therefore there will be a game at Codronices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond
2/8/12
Softball: The Upside of Renting
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, and as of now it is full. As always, please let me know ASAP if you committed and need to cancel, and if you still want in, feel free to get on the wait list or contact me later for news of reopened slots.
This week's field fee is just $4, and that includes a complimentary one-year subscription to Practical: The Columbia University Journal of Water Hammer, Rodentia Abatement and other Triggers of Neurosis in the Mechanically Disinclined Homeowner…..Raymond 845-7552