Softball: Treasures of Coincidence from Google Road
Dear People,
Congratz to all on last week’s curiously anomalous 27-22 whirlwind of explosive aerobic peril. The chilling sense of danger began with the 5:00 start time, which had the shortstops, 3rd basemen and left fielders blinded by the despicably indifferent sun, and was further exacerbated by the unexpected debut of a SUPER bluedot ball (as opposed to the classic bluedot, from which we had always suckled before). Admittedly, the inadvertent use of that deadly orb gave renewed pride and hope to many of our more challenged hitters, but in retrospect, the breathtaking speed and power with which it darted through the lush East Bay air posed an unacceptable risk. Indeed, I’m not the kind of guy who quotes from his own recent verbiage, and I’m certainly not about to start now, but that ball was as tight and pristine as Britney Spears before that cutesy cad Timberlake corrupted her forever.
Even more shameful, I allowed its use to continue as a twisted way of compensating for my OTHER grievous error of overbooking the game, which resulted in an extra fielder per team. Chagrined as I was, I attempted to cover my tracks by holding a quick 4th inning plebiscite, knowing full well that once the weaker batters had tasted the sweet brine of power-hitting, they’d never vote out that ball. They didn’t, and it stayed, but thankfully, the only injury was a darling shiner to Susan’s left shin (And with all due respect, she only shows up about twice a year, so it’s not as if the costs to the community were all that significant). Nevertheless, the egregious ways in which I compromised your safety was simply inexcusable, and thus, had my team not gone on to kick some serious tuckus, I would have immediately tendered my resignation and returned to the cherished olive groves of my rural Slovenian youth.
In any case, and as most of you know, next Sunday marks the 81st anniversary of the day that the contemptible Chicago Cubs upset the frisky Philadelphia Phillies, 26-23, in what remains the highest scoring game in the history of professional baseball! For Phillies manager Kaiser Wilhelm, it was a particularly bitter loss, and one that would leave an indelible blemish on his otherwise magnificent career (an 83-157 record over the glorious 1922 and 1923 seasons). Indeed, other lesser captains may have cracked under the strain, but Kaiser was always a rock under stress, for he had already endured the constant derision of his peers for having the exact name as Kaiser Wilhem (the second), 9th King of Prussia and 3rd Emperor of Germany. Yes, THAT Kaiser, who not only led the Axis powers in the Great War, but who had once taunted an American visitor with his assertion that baseball was "typical of the Anglo-Saxon penchant for pussy sports."
In fact, Kaiser of the Phillies was related to this royal Germanic jerk, but only distantly and not technically by blood (The King’s brother’s strudel chef was our hero’s half-sister from a previous marriage). The point is that life’s rich pageant is an unfathomable goulash of unexpected convergences across time and space and peoples, and if that frightens you, I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it is. And therefore, there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11:00, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond
8/22/03
Softball: An Opening for Misfits
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11:00, though as of now, we are at a shameful, bare minimum quorum with SIX slots still left. You are therefore encouraged to commit your various and sundry non-community contacts, including psychotic neighbors, former parole officers and institutionalized kin.
$2 for the field, all tax deductible if your accountant is frisky…Raymond 845-7552
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