Softball: Varied Snippets in the Process of Struggle
Dear People,
In one of those majestic 10-inning paragons of grueling aerobic battle as it's meant to be, Pace's team crushed my own on the last hit of the game, 15-14. As it all began, the lush Codornices grasses were dry and gorgeous, yet a cruel arctic wind threatened to decimate us with frostbite, gangrene and scabies. There was a raw post-storm tension in the lower ether, and as our first player came to the plate, my teeth chattered and chattered hard. And yes, a cold and cantankerous billy goat brayed bitterly in the distance.
In any case, we stayed stout as a communal whole, and it was in spite of these brutalizing conditions that my side jumped out to a commanding 9-4 lead in the top of the 5th. Our 8-run rally took off when Siobhan unleashed an explosive 2-error RBI double to deep center right that initially bounced off Anthony's tragically outstretched glove. This in itself wouldn't have shifted the game's basic athletic tone, yet our mojo quickly congealed when Frank tried to catch the desperate follow-up throw to 2nd with the middle cranial fossa of his fearless upper skull. Remarkably, he didn't seem to notice as the darting orb ricocheted off his legendary cast-iron 'noggin, and while I feared that he went straight into an ephemeral post-concussive state, it was difficult to know for sure since his curiously unique behavioral patterns seemed normal within the Frankenstinian context.
In any case, I was still deeply worried when I came to bat in the top of the 6th, though the focus of my emotive neurosis rapidly shifted when I realized that Pace's outfield had completely abandoned right in reaction to my presence at the plate. Anthony had actually moved 30 feet to absolute dead center, and moreover, he was jovial and giggling. So let's be clear; This was a tacit yet scurrilous attack on my navigational acumen, and I for one was going to punish them for the tenor of their taunt. Indeed, I had never felt so utterly focused, and with the right field line as the polestar for my multibase vengeance, I was relishing every one of Jerry's curve, knuckle and salivary balls.
In retrospect, there's something about striking out on a third swing and a miss that clarifies the resiliency of what Jung called the Tender Human Ego (the the, if you will, pronounced 'tea'). Yes, it's softball, not baseball, and so I suppose I could have felt ashamed, but amazingly, Jerry did the same thing to Chee just five minutes later! (the chi, if you will, pronounced 'chee'). So no, I'm not going to dwell on the fact that this was the loss of my personal s.o. cherry, or that my team soon cratered under the stress of so much aesthetic disgrace, or that Jonny has now completed yet another winless international excursion.
Indeed, there are greater challenges to the resiliency of the tender human ego than a single swing and a miss, and I'm not saying that just because as I write these very words, our beloved trinational hero is in fact on a plane back to Melbourne-weary, abulic and utterly adrift. And therefore there will be game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond
3/23/12
Softball: Mitt! (A Shameless Lack of Desire to Resist Piling On)
Dear People,
Capricious, dumbass weather permitting, there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, and as of now there are still two slots left. Even if it rains heavily between now and then, assume nothing and check for an update by no later than 10AM that morning. Remember, Codornices has magical drainage, and of course we are a stout and hearty folk by both birth and temperament. Sort of.
Assuming it happens, this week's field fee is just $4, and that includes a complimentary one year subscription to Etch A Sketch: The UCLA Quarterly Journal of Campaign Logistics for the Rarefied Panderer….Raymond 845-7552
Softball: Sunday 9:45AM: Life is Risk!/Seize the Day!!
Dear People,
Codornices is a a bit soggy in places and puddled in the infield, but she is also totally playable! Basically. Moreover, we are a stout folk who know how to use shovels, buckets and hoes (yea, hoes), and my reading of the current Doppler Radar is that rain is unlikely in the next few hours. Or not.
Focus/Courage/See ya at 11!...Raymond 845-7552
PS: Mike Davey and Chris Fure have both demanded that I make this happen, so if this turns into a catastrophe, I cannot be blamed. Just sayin'.
PPS: Buckets, shovels and hoes much appreciated.
PPPS: Two slots now available!