2/25/09
Softball: A Somewhat Muddled Foray into the Theoretical Realm
Dear People,
Despite the hideous rains that once again robbed us of sun, field and hope itself, nine of us gathered at Chester’s Café for a succulent brunch of fine grub and solace—Chris Fure, Frieda, Mike Davey, his filial unit Ely, Ramona, her filial unit Daniel, Debbie, Steve Seskin and myself. We were out to sustain our vital communal cohesion, and that we did.
Even better, I had no intention of being defeated by the recreational mundanities of “physical reality,” and thus I brought along a 4x6 card with the pre-balanced teams of the 21 heroic souls who had committed to last week’s game. Fortunately, this allowed those of us at the café to determine what would’ve happened had the climatological Gods not been so thoroughly despicable.
For the record, I had organized the two sides as follows:
Ray (captain) Anthony (enemy captain)
Chris Fure Pace
JT Matt
Stefano Michael Davey
Ameer Greg Laddish
Alan Brill Chee
Kira Enid
Steve Seskin McCabe
Ramona Peter
Frieda Debbie
Susan
As I feasted on my eggs florentine with fresh spinach, tofu and myrrh, I passed the card around just to confirm what in all candor, I thought was quite obvious; My team would’ve trounced Anthony’s, 29-16. Chris readily agreed and soon enough I was fairly certain there was a table-wide consensus. But then, for some reason, Mike Davey went all analytically ape-shit on me, demanding to know what the underlying assumptions were for Seskin’s game at the plate. Frankly it seemed like a harsh line of questioning, especially since Steve was innocently sitting right there next to him, pretending not to notice as he savored his alluringly gorgeous Challa French Toast.
In fairness, my scenario did have the Seskinator hitting a grand slam, three triples, and a double on five at-bats, which, admittedly, would’ve been his best performance since 1927. Yet for what it’s worth, I don’t “make up” the correlation paradoxes of quantum theory, nor can I explain why there are an infinite number of parallel aerobic universes—all of them so mysterious, spacial and coy. Frankly, all we can do is accept that they’re out there, and so while I certainly understand Mikie’s bitterness at being on the losing side, I think we all know that despite the rainout, my team gave Anthony’s a 29-16 shellacking that they’ll likely never forget. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond
2/27/09
Softball: Indulgences
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codronices this Sunday at 11AM, and as of now, there are still five slots left. If it rains a lot between now and then or if conditions are ambiguous that morning, you will need to check email. Assume nothing, hope for sun, and if by chance you have a craving to be unusually helpful, do the right thing and get me three more commits.
This week’s field fee is just $4, and that includes a special post-game pedicure with a full salt soak and rub….Ray
3/1/09
Softball: Sunday 9:40AM: Despair ;-(
Dear People,
Dopler Rader currently has Berkeley sitting in the middle of an appalling torrent of moderate rain that stretches from Ft. Bragg to Salinas, and as I type these very words, it’s dark, bitter, and drizzling hard. Yeah, perhaps after being screwed three weeks in a row, a few of you will now tacitly concede that for us as a people, nature has little of value outside some really cute and cuddly mammals.
Patience (again)….Raymond
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