Softball: In Search of Excellence
Dear People,
In a bitter pitcher's duel of haunting spasmodic progression, Chris Fure's team came back from a stark 12-0 abyss to shamelessly massacre my own, 40-25.* And by the way, I wasn't going to add that asterisk, but the ethical norms of aerobic historiography require it; Yeah, the Furinator looked so shaken by the end of the 1st that I had no choice but to make a rare team-balancing tweak. In this case, we swapped Zac for Ali and four dinners at Chez Pretentious, but just to be clear, her multiple hits and flawless D were clearly more valuable to us than whatever fillip the Zacster gave to Chris' contingent. So given the irrelevance of the trade to the actual outcome of the match, I fully concede that the asterisk itself cries out for a notational glyph. Of course, you may think that this is some kind of cynical semiotic way of further muddling the authoritative rectitude of the 15-run rout in question, and yet I can assure you that's just not my scene. Indeed, I'm happy to say it again, with both humility and clarity-Chris Fure's team “beat” my own, 40-25*‡.
The fact is that we still had a classically taut nail-biter as we entered the bottom of the 7th, with my side nursing a fragile 21-18 lead. It was at this point that we inexplicably gave up 18 runs on 11 hits and 24 errors, though just to be clear, I totally reject the idea that it was Anthony's fault. Oh sure, his rotational turn at shortstop was a somewhat disconcerting spectacle, but in fairness, the Antman was stuck playing with a borrowed and undersized glove, and as best I could tell, it was not made from traditional leathers, but rather from a curious composite of industrialized margarines.
In any case, if there's any one individual who set the tone for that inning from hell, it would have to be Jay, who was tasked with fielding Corey's scathing bullet down the left field line. Initially, our hero darted with clarion focus to retrieve the orb from the tree-laden ravine to the left of 3rd, and thus I was still hopeful that he could limit the damage to a modest RBI double. But then, and for reasons I don't pretend to understand, the Jayster proceeded to hurl the ball straight over Donny's head and on toward the slope beyond deep center right, or about 200 feet from the diamond where all three of their runners were now in the process of scoring. It was, to be sure, a heartbreaking display of staggering Euclidian idiocy, and frankly, the zeitgeist-shifting act that likely sealed our doom.
Amazingly, though, even that particular play wasn't the most disturbing that inning, for just eight runs, nine errors and ten minutes later, Steve La Porta began his own run for destiny, dashing from 2nd to 3rd on a shallow two-out grounder to center. He was clearly determined to add to their onslaught, though despite his drive and passion, he apparently confuddled the tactical details of his calibrated advance. To be sure, the Portster arrived safely with a solid second to spare, yet his decision to forego traditional sliding for a diving arms-stretched-out belly flop directly on to the base suggests that he may have momentarily succumbed to hallucinatory flashbacks from the water polo of his youth. Fortunately, he seemed reasonably lucid by the time he reached the plate.
The point is that sometimes people will shyly come up to me and say that they'd be interested in joining our league, but they're truly not sure whether they have the required athletic grace and coordination to compete at our rarefied communal level. Yeah, I think you get the point, and therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning . . . Raymond
PS: Speaking of Euclid . . .
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNe6fsaCVtI
PPS: Our Stupid Species in Historical Context . . .
http://vimeo.com/50531435
7/25/14
Softball: Means of Escape
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there is still one slot left.
Please bring $4 for the field, which for this week only includes a complimentary basket of sundry hookahs, vapes and pine-scented 'ludes…Raymond 845-7552