7/16/99
Softball: Dust
Dear People,
It is Friday Morning, and sadly, for the second week in a row, we are still well short of a quorum for this Sunday's game. I must confess that as I leave the house for my mornin chores, such a state of affairs leaves me feeling just a tad crestfallen, for yet again I have somehow failed to galvanize the kinesiological gestalt. On a personal level, I have to face the searing realization that my powers of persuasion have become feckless and jejune, but ultimately, this is not about me. Nor is it about Briscoe "The Human Eyeball" Lord, though of course, objectively, rare is a dissing as flagrant as ignoring a legendary dead athlete's 114th birthday.
No, there is something more disturbing going on here, and I would like to explain. A couple days ago, after buying a succulent set of all- rubber easy-throw deluxe model baseball bases, I decided to go to Codornices with just a lone shovel and pail in my hands. Seriously. I arrived around 7:30 PM, and already it was getting dark, with ominous yet eerily sensual Altocumulus clouds wafting overhead. Alone in my oneness, I traipsed over to the batter's cage, and as I promised you, I began to shovel the virgin clay soils of the Codornices infield into the crater next to home plate. Digging with admirable celerity, I had filled up most of the hole within 15 minutes, but as I was working, I suddenly noticed that I was the only person in the whole enforested park. A stray mutt howled in the distance. Then, as dusk crushed out the remaining lumiere, a young couple appeared on the right field ridge, and I remember thinking that as they looked over at me, with my shovel and pail and lederhosen and clogs, I must have looked like some kind of horticulturally obsessed psychopathic freak. I accept that, but as I said, this is not about me.
The point is that in turning over that rich and fertile loam, I was suddenly overcome with the sheer pulchritude of dirt itself, with its alluring mix of organic sands, silt and understated foundry molds. Of course for all of us, it also provides the foundation for every ground ball and every stolen base, and yet it asks nothing in return. Nothing. And when viewed from this perspective, I think you see my point. So make that commit because it's still not too late; Do it for the good earth, where all from legumes to mud lice to shortstops find sustenance and growth....Raymond 845-7552
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