3/12/03

Softball: Hazy (Memories of the Day)

Dear People,

Congratz to all on the lush aerobic contours of last week’s 22-19 sojourn into my own personal flirtation with physiological collapse. I take particular pride in having led my team to victory, for I was not only nursing a contemptible Hong-Kong-flu-viral-type-thing that left me wan, feverish, and literally voiceless, but I was able to do so while ever furthering my insights into our inimitable community of curious athletic citizens. Indeed, this was the first time I observed you people through the cleansing perspective of advanced febrile dementia, and for what it’s worth, I’m now more convinced than ever that the survival of the human species is an affront to the very notion of Darwinian logic.

In any case, my somewhat impaired mental state has left me with few memories of the game itself, but I do fondly recall the general pace of that glorious morn, including the fact that as soon as most players heard my creaky attempts to vocalize, they immediately began to retreat from me as if I were a particularly virulent form of syphilitic leper. Still, not all were so callous, and indeed, I owe special thanks to Terri, who lovingly darted to her distant car in order to fetch me some Ricola Herbal lozenges for my deeply troubled throatage. Oh sure, she returned with nothing but a crumpled and empty bag of the medicinal solace in question, yet her insistence that there HAD been lozenges in there at some previous time was enough in itself to coat my gorge with a soothing emotive patina of utterly pointless gratitude.

Of course pain carries relative weight in terms of aesthetic load. I mention this because I also recall glancing at Dave K’s shin about five minutes after Broh inexplicably drilled a blistering line drive directly into its brittle core marrow, and in all candor, the emerging purple-tinted tangerine-sized lump was so utterly repellant that I actually thought I would lose my breakfast right then and there. Needless to say, I had to avert my squeamish little pupils, but I also vowed to honor Dave’s cherished tibia as the heroic bone du jour---perhaps bruised and abused, but now an eternal, proud and compelling symbol of really inadequate reflexes. And therefore, there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Ray


3/14/03:

Softball: Faith in the Sun

Dear People,

There will (hopefully) be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, and as of now, there are still SIX slots left. Due to the curious dip in demand, for this game you are welcome to commit any individuals not on this list, including friends, neighbors and wacko paramours.

Now I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that every climatologist worth his salt is predicting hard, pounding and despicable rain for the next several days, and that this is all a lame-ass exercise in utter organizational futility. Maybe. Maybe not. But regardless, I would like to think that you people have a little more faith in my risk-management acumen, and that I happen to know what I’m doing.

Therefore: $2 for the field/CHECK EMAIL before the game/See ya Sunday. Hopefully. ……Raymond 845-7552



3/16/03


Softball: Sunday 9:30 AM: What Prudence Demands ;-(…..


Given that 6 of our 19 commits are from outside the East Bay, the field is offically closed and already soaked, it is drizzling as I write AND contemptible softball-hating stratocumulus clouds dominate the sky, I have no choice but to cancel today’s game. Call me a risk-adverse organizational chickenshit if you must….Ray

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