8/17/11
Softball: Out of Africa
Dear People,
My team crushed Tony MacIntosh's, 25-14, with a compelling seasonal blend of rarefied focus, unshakeable esprit'de corps and an 11-run 14-hit 7th-inning stein of pure undiluted kickass. In one of those tragic ironies of the broader aerobic ether, Mac's own pitches may have been too perfectly tossed (in a lingering, sensual and Euclidean sort of way), and thus every player in my roster was able to swat solid ground balls past his dispirited and waylaid infield. And for the record, I'm not saying that just because I have this spontaneous craving to point out that those very words suggest the haunting prose of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (or Robert Burns, or perhaps LL Cool J-I'm not really sure)….
And the leather orbs, so fast dart by
The batter's box, the kindred sky
The grueling 7th, they would not yield
The dispirited, the waylaid, with revenge instilled
A gratuitous line-I tongue gently my shield
Tragic our fate on this skanky infield
Whatever.
Now look, I happen to know that my poetry lacks a certain rhetorical rigor, but that's not what this is about. Indeed, even though Tristan was nearly punch-drunk from the cumulative jet-lag of his previous day's flight from Kampala to Amsterdam to 'Frisco (Yeah, Frisco), this soft-spoken megastar of the metabalomic sciences still went six for seven on breathtaking line drives to right, shallow right and shallow very shallow. The fact that he happens to be my niece's main Dutch squeeze simply expands the theoretical limits of my extended familial pride, and while I'm obviously not going to awkwardly address Sara in front of 400 total strangers (that's what Facebook is for), I would gently ask her if another year in small-town Uganda could possibly offer anything as inspiring, intriguing or awesome as watching the Trister blast in five RBIs on the very same day he's able to determine the phenotype of an engorged, hideous and big 'ol fatty acid like N-oleoylethanolamine.
No, my friends, this is not the forum to expose our soiled Weschler family linens, but with all due respect, Sara, I think the question answers itself. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Ray
PS: I'm going to be out of town for the next few days, so don't panic if it takes me a little longer than usual to confirm your commit.
8/19/11
Softball: My Little Town
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there are still four slots left.
This week's field fee is just $4, and because I write to you from world-famous Los Angeles, that includes a personally signed copy of my just released memoir The Manholes of Santa Monica: A Reminiscence in Photos, Vignettes and Poetry....Ray 845-7552
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