Dear People,
Congratz to all on last weekend's joyously explosive 20-8 aerobic meltdown. That 11 hastily assembled and frightened individual souls, strangers to each other and the world around them, could heroically battle to an 8-8 draw as late as two outs into the seventh inning, only to inexplicably implode in a ghastly athletic orgy of miscalculation, error and inimitable defensive ineptitude, suggests yet once again that the work of industrial psychologists on the cohesion of the organizational unit has barely touched the surface. I myself, observing the carnage from the nurturing sanctuary of the prevailing contingent while simultaneously nursing a just inflicted walnut-size purple bruise on my shinbone, could only wonder with awe if the brittle emotional cartilage that braces any team together is ultimately as vulnerable to cracking as my own tiny little tibia. I honestly don't know.
In any case, I am well aware that the extended labor day weekend is upon us, and that many of you will be scurrying from the Bay Area in order to visit loved ones, attend weddings or engage in other endeavors of dubious import. Look, I know I have a hard sell here, and that resorting to the anniversary of esoteric feats of this or that particular player isn't going to cut it this time. I understand that, and in fact, I was close to deciding that I wouldn't even try to organize a game. But then I happen to read up a bit on the history of the US working classes, and soon found myself teary-eyed by the juxtaposition of my own weak resolve with the ceaseless energy of American labor's legendary union organizers, from Mother Jones to Joe Hill, Eugene Debs to Ty Cobb (who courageously agreed to join the owner-despised Protective Association of Professional Baseball Players in 1906 after he was finally convinced that by so doing, he would actually make more money).
The point is that I could walk away and let this weekend pass without a match, but it's clear to me now that this would be exactly what The Man wants me to do, and I for one won't bite. Therefore, there will a game this Saturday, September 4th at 11AM at Codornices, IF I get enough players by this Friday noon. So make that commit; Do it not just for, but in honor of, the working peoples, who still seek solace in sport because more than a century after the Pullman strike, surplus labor value continues to rear its ugly little conceptually problematic head....Raymond