4/17/01
Softball: An Asterisk of Note
Dear People,
Congratz to all on last week’s sizzling 25-22 display of unprecedented aerobic muscularity. The sublime spectacle of no fewer than seven home-runs peppering the distant Codornices outfield brought goose-bumps to my bosom, and more than made up for the fact that my own team’s splendid 9th inning rally was cut brutally short by the harsh opprobrium of a stunning final-batter strike-out. Of course these things happen, and I for one will not concede that the player in question must face the emotive sting of objective shame.
Rather, I would gently suggest that John was simply distracted by the weight of our tragedy-laden world, and in a certain sense, his 3rd swing-and-a-miss was actually reflective of a more ethical and higher grade of individual than certain others who may have actually kept us alive. The fact is that I don’t know if it was the frayed tenor of Sino-American relations, the spiraling cancer of hoof-and-grout disease among the British cattle community, or something entirely different that occupied his tiny little mind at that game-defining moment. However, I do know that despite his unsettling role in the calamitous denouement, those among my teammates who sneered "weakest link" under their post-game breaths do not speak for the great plurality who recognize our hero’s moral and athletic excellence, as well as the inescapable random karma of really untimely ineptitude.
In any case, and as most of you know, this Sunday, April 22nd, is the 202nd anniversary of the birth of the legendary David Rice Atchison, that towering symbol of the American Presidency who occupied the office on Sunday, March 4th, 1849, and held it for a full 24 hours. As you’ll recall, the Atchmeister was Senate Pro Tempore as James Polk’s Presidency concluded on that dreary Winter day, but President-elect Zachary Taylor refused to take the oath of office on a Sunday. Frankly, I think ‘ol Zackie was being both sassy and bombastic, but that’s not the point.
The simple reality is that since Vice President George Dallas had resigned earlier in the year, the chain of succession quickly fell to Atchison, a stout and hard-bitten Missorian who responsibly assumed his duties by sleeping through most of his Presidency in hopes of fighting off a nasty head-cold. Thankfully, and as far as my research reveals, the Ruskies never tried to exploit this delicate period of executive transition.
Oh sure, there are some totally anal Constitutional scholars who claim that Atchison was never "really" President, since they insist General Taylor actually assumed the office at noon on March 4th, whether or not he took that sacred oath. Well, as softball players who believe in the inherent value of pointless rules and rituals, I think we all know that this theory is a revisionist crock, and that Atchison’s omission from the texts of our national tale cries out for redress. Perhaps he lost the support of future historians due to his unyielding stand on the Cornmush Tariff of ‘46, or the fact that his relations with Congress were admittedly strained for the duration of his short but pivotal administration.
These are legitimate concerns, but the reality of the world is that on Atchie’s curiously rococo St. Louis tombstone, the stark words of historical objectivism simply proclaim "David Rice Atchison. President of the US. One day." And therefore, there will be a game at Codornices, this Sunday at 5:00, if I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond
4/20/01
Softball: Corruption
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 5:00, and as of now, there are just three slots left. Please bring $2 for the field, which, admittedly, helps defray the cost of my increasingly troublesome love for imported organic sniffing glues…Ray
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