Softball: Smirnoff, Causation and the Psychic Wounds of Youth
Dear People,
My team rallied from a demoralizing 5-0 5th-inning deficit to gingerly trounce Tony Mac's, 8-6, and while we'll never know definitively, I believe the tide turned on Mary's mid-game decision to serve up an alluring vat's worth of fresh Bloody Marys (no relation). Indeed, my contingent stuck mostly to the thirst-slaking purity of water itself, whereas Tony and the Maryster appeared to encourage their own peeps in a more festive approach to the aerobic task at hand. Now admittedly, I'm not a connoisseur of the harder libations, yet the one sip I did take left me fairly convinced that most of Tony's power hitters were soon guzzling a somewhat intriguing blend of tomato juice, cayenne pepper and flash-pasteurized paint thinner. Yeah, I think I get how Alan Brill soon shut down their hitting and we eked out the win.
I suppose that in certain respects, one could trace our triumph to that magical Norwegian day in the summer of '68. As you'll recall (though I don't see how), my mom was driving our VW van and I was in the back with my three siblings as we winded ourselves from Oslo to the Swedish border on a long, mountainous and increasingly curvy road. We had just eaten a satisfying brunch of succulent Nordic omelets, but unfortunately I was only eight and still a total moron, and thus even as I grew increasingly more queasy from our sinuous ascension into the deep Scandinavian bush, I did not ask ma to pull over. Instead, and without warning, I threw up in the car, and within 6.5 seconds, every other person in that vehicle began to spontaneously hurl. For me, my family, and perhaps even the Norwegian people, this was a really unpleasant experience.
The point is that I was so emotionally scarred by this incident that I haven't retched again in 44 years (no joke!), which is to say that I retain a curiously innocent aversion to alcoholic imbibement. Indeed, it's my vomiphobia that capped my exploration of Mary's tantalizing industrial elixir at just one audacious sip, and this was what clearly assured the foundational sobriety for my go-ahead RBI single in the top of the 7th! Of course, I'm not suggesting that the sadistic Oslovian egg chef who tried to wipe out my family over four decades ago is an ironic proximate cause of my side's magnificent rally and triumph, yet I think we all know that if the butterfly effect means anything, that's exactly what it means. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond
3/9/12
Softball: Spring Forward…
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there are still five slots left. Yep, five slots!
Please remember that this weekend is the end of daylight savings (or perhaps the beginning; my little brain gets muddled by these concepts), and therefore you will need to set your clock ahead one hour before going to sleep tomorrow night. If you forget to do that, you could end up arriving an hour late for the game, annoying all your aerobic friends and bringing incalculable shame to your entire extended family.
Finally, this week's field fee is just $4, and that includes a post-game European facial with either lash tinting or peppermint pedicure….Raymond 845-7552