10/26/05
Softball: Musings of a Vasectomized Loser
Dear People,
Chris Fure’s team staved off my own, 30-25, in a blistering three-hour
paragon of pristine athletic theatre, bookmarked as it was by indelible
incidents of stigma and shame. Our drama began when beefy David Seskin came to the plate in the top of the 1st, for he immediately triggered a palpable feeling of dread amongst my entire defense. To be sure, I haven’t been his age since about 1923, and the way he drags on his cigs only adds to the force with which his sheer girth, muscularity and youth can project the raw ferocity of his unstoppable bat.
Yet after his first swing-and-miss, all of that was forgotten. Not
because Alan Brill’s sinker fooled him, and fooled him good, but
because the hard reality is that every person in that park heard his
cherished mama’s instantaneous feedback on the taut situation at hand; "Don’t be so eager, sweetie!!" Ellen yelled out with boundless maternal concern, and while it was clearly a moment of tear-triggering tenderness, it may have, in retrospect, diminished the fear with which we now viewed the threat that David actually posed. Indeed, good ’ol EagerBoy popped up on the very next pitch, proving once again that while there is nothing as wondrous as a mother’s aerobic love, it’s probably best expressed in the solemn snicker-free chambers of the familial abode.
In any case, three long long hours later I found myself as a runner at
first with one out and bases loaded in the bottom of the 9th, and even better, the cream of my team was now coming to bat. The bottom line is that we had rallied hard again, and though we were still down by five, we were in fact on the cusp of destiny. And thus, as JT’s fly ball soared deep into center right, I knew the only thing that could stop us was a cognitive miscalculation in the kinesiologic fabric, or as it’s more colloquially expressed, somebody being a retard. Alas, I’m your man.
In fairness, it was shocking enough that JT’s fly ball was caught, but regardless, the fact is that when I tagged up for first, the only thing I saw between me and second was Marcellus, and as we all know, 11-year-old punks are simply not old enough to merit our respect. Unfortunately, the kid held on to the incoming throw, pivoted on his tiny little pre-pubescent feets, and then tagged me cold as I spastically overshot the base. The game was over and my ego destroyed, but nevertheless, I once again learned a stirring and priceless lesson; As with the four darling raccoons that have apparently shacked up in my attic, the only rational behavior toward children is to simply distrust, fear and scrupulously avoid them. And therefore there will be a game at San Pablo #2 this Monday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond
10/28/05
Softball: Your Perjury-Free Daylight Savings Sport
Dear People,
There will be a game at San Pablo #2 this Sunday at 11AM, and as of now there are still four slots left. Don’t forget that this weekend is Daylight Savings, which is obviously a contemptible distortion of the natural chronological order, but still the law. You will therefore need to set your clock back one hour on Saturday night, lest you arrive at the park one hour early—frightened, confused and a dufus in every sense of the word.
$3 for the field/See ya Sunday…Raymond 845-7552
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