Softball: A City Boy’s Perspective on Paying Tribute to Labor
Dear People,
On a broiling East Bay day marked by sublime athletic excellence, my team staved off Ken’s in 10 deliciously sudorific innings, 20-19. I remember so little from the haze of my cranial fondue, but I do recall that Frank’s attempted theft of 2nd in the top of the 7th ended in one of those ghastly spectacles in which he lay supine on the sizzling ground a full two feet away from the base—a beached aerobic whale whose very effort was a heart-rending symbol of sacrifice, potential itself and the humiliating aesthetic risks of complete and utter failure. As a captain, I can tell you that rare is the time that my bosom has swelled so full.
In any case, we are quickly approaching the Labor Day weekend, and thus naturally I was thinking that I wouldn’t bother to organize a game. To be sure, many of you will undoubtedly be taking off on your traditional sojourns to wondrous and convenient locales like Stinson Beach, Lake Tahoe, and Yosemite National Park. I totally understand, and indeed, I myself can’t think of anything more appealing than mixing it up with a bunch of feral crab, insidious blood-sucking insects and disease-bearing rodentia.
But then I started to think about the actual history and meaning of Labor Day, and how a courageous alliance of industrial union organizers, democratic socialists and the 1882 Baltimore Orioles joined together to demand a special break for the working folk. Well, I can tell you that as one who occasionally still pines for the bracing renewal of hot metal lathing, I happen to believe that there are better ways to honor those who toil amongst us than driving hours away to party with a bunch of syphilitic locusts. Yeah, I think that both Joe Hill and Ty Cobb would get where I’m going with this, and therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Ray
8/29/08
Softball: Poor Pitiful Me
Dears,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, and as of now there are four slots left.
Too fluish to woo you further/$3 for the field/Back to bed, where Wendy will anoint me in cool moistened towelettes as I fall in and out of febrile dementia/Godspeed….Ray 845-7552