6/22/11
Softball: Familial
Dear People,
On a hot, sultry and magnificent East Bay Father's Day in which three pops and their sons wallowed in the glory of competitive bi-generational sport, my team's staggering four-run 9th-inning Cambrian Explosion proved to be the dispositive coup de grace. And for the record, I say that with a subtle blend of conflicted emotions, for as sweet as it was to garner the 10-6 triumph for Steve and David Seskin, the harsh reality is that when it finally happened, Chris Fure's side succumbed hard, fast and ghastly-like one of those tragically ensnared field mice whose last memory is of the hideous thoracic innards of an utterly amoral Burmese python. Yeah, I've said it once and I'll say it again; Aside from the big and cuddly mammals, the entire animal kingdom is totally overrated.
In any case, Alan Shabel was flawless at short with four double-plays to his credit, and while his toddlers weren't actually there, I still felt recurrent waves of vicarious paternal pride. Moreover, with such suctionesque excellence behind him, Alan Miller was a Koufax-like machine on the mound. Sadly though, Chris had seized Jason in an utterly unauthorized last-second trade, and thus it initially appeared that the Millerman could not celebrate with his own filial seedage. Yet after it was all over, I could see that the Jaster was giggly and smiling broadly, proving once again that blood is that thickest nectar of loyalty---forever resistant to the tawdry and pernicious factions of party, tribe and team. Whatever.
The point is that even though I chose a life of stark barrenosity when I was still a strapping young adolescent myself, my Seattle-based brother, my beautiful 17-year old niece and my burgeoning 11-year old nephew are staying in my house as I type these very words! As you can imagine, I find it nothing less than a calming ephemeral joy when I get to help in raising Robert's thriving young family in my very own abode, and in all candor, I believe that just because the kid looks at me like I'm some kind of alien crab, deep in his pre-pubescent heart he understands that I am perhaps the very essence of avuncular perfection. Moreover, we now have a tacit agreement that if he allows me to get through the next couple days without a complete collapse into clinical psychosis, I'll let him play this weekend. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond
6/24/11
Softball: Tongues
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 week only includes
either õíóLã@ò&Mac240;ä&Mac197;ìûç&Mac197;âÿóÌìIé‘ìQ_ãçê¢äE or .....[[chinese text]]!....Raymond 845-7552
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