5/7/14

Softball: Fathers and Sons (A Chronicle of Heroism Diverged)

Dear People,

In a captivating spectacle of intermittent aerobic excellence, my team eviscerated Anthony's, 15-14. The fact is that we floundered for most of the game, and in some ways we had no business snagging that final triumph. More specifically, both sides had potentially game-saving heroes that fine and storied day, and yet only one could avoid the post-glory taint of cumulative hircine failure. If you'd be so kind, allow me to explicate.

Tony Mac made another long-awaited return from his Michigan abode, and this time he brought his beloved son Kyle. Alas, though, our entire team floundered about for the first six innings, and this pitiful state of affairs was perhaps best captured by what happened after the Macster led off the bottom of the 5th with a staggering triple to deep center-right. While this should've brought our entire team to life, we in fact stranded Tony at 3rd, and yeah, the final ghastly out was a listless hopper to short by none other than the Kyleator himself.

The fact is that we were still down 7-1, and as Tony walked off the field and our hopes cratered again, I looked deep into his sorrowful baby blues, and I instantly thought about my decision to get clipped in 1983. And as he looked into my own disconsolate hazels, he knew that I knew that he knew what I was ponderin', and yeah, sometimes in life's rich pageant, there just ain't no right answer.

Two innings later, though, Kyle came to the plate with one out, one on, and our side still down by five, when he suddenly unleashed a high, long and profoundly atoning fly ball just over big Joe P's shell-shocked little head. It was also, to be sure, a transformative mo-shifting RBI-double that galvanized our team like no other hit that day. Indeed, by the end of the inning, we had gone ahead by two, and even better, we then shut down the Antman's desperate 8th-inning counter-rally with a brutal tag-out of Frank as he slid fecklessly into 2nd. Yeah, it seemed that the hinge of fate had clearly been sealed, but of course, rare is the tale that clings predictably to script.

Sure enough, Frankenstein shifted big-mo again by kicking off what was arguably the most breathtaking triple play in the history of this league (Frankie at 3rd to Chris Fure at 2nd to Paul H at 1st, in a phenomenal 1.607 seconds!). And now, running on the fuel of their pure adrenal splendor, the Antman's contingent scored three quick ones in the top of the 9th, narrowing our lead to one razor-thin run.

The Franker himself extended their rally, blasting a solid two-out line drive deep into right. Yet then, and for reasons I don't pretend to understand, he set off for 1st with the lumbering gait of a punch-drunk sleepwalker, and as Donny's blazing throw to 1st reached my outstretched glove, I realized that we had not only beat him by a foot and thus won the game, but we had now tarred this inscrutable hero with that most unfortunate of all athletic labels-Fuckup Goat (FUG). I'm sorry, but I have to write it as it as I sees it, and I think you understand that.

The point is that I was thumbing through the Times a couple days ago when I came across this encouraging article on the results of a series of recent studies which show that the blood of young mice can stop and even reverse the aging process in old mice . . .

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/05/science/young-blood-may-hold-key-to-reversing-aging.html?_r=0

I mention this not because I happen to be firmly opposed to the aging process, but because I was contemplating how equally iconic heroes like Kyle and Frank could end up with such divergent game trajectories (simple goat-to-hero, vs. goat-to-hero-to-goat). And then it occurred to me that while it's perhaps not a polite thing to say, the reality is that Kyle is now entering the prime of his kick-ass adolescence, whereas Frank is now entering what certain advertisers refer to as “generation non-young” (Ages 37 to 120, or death, whichever comes first).

Now look, I'm not saying that Kyle will have an increasing aerobic advantage as Frank's age continues to narrow as a percentage of my own, but just to be clear, I'm not going to ignore what's staring us in the face; The fact is that Frank's on my team about half these games, and if on those days, spiking his water bottle with some fresh pre-pubescent rodent blood is all that it takes, then sure, I'm in. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond


5/9/14

Softball: Dermatological

Dear People,

There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there are still four slots left.

Please bring $4 for the field, which for this special Mother's Day game includes a complimentary post-match seaweed facial mask with rejuvenating kelp powder essence….Raymond 845-7552

PS: Antonin Scalia: Radical judicial activist, latter day buffoon and a consummate practitioner of results-oriented jurisprudence?! I'm shocked . . .

http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/06/us/politics/in-justices-votes-free-speech-often-means-speech-i-agree-with.html?_r=0

http://www.salon.com/2014/05/06/scalias_delusional_hackery_from_originalism_to_shilling_for_the_tea_party/

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