11/20/00
Softball: The Cures of Indulgence
Dear People,
Congratz to all on last week’s 28-7 pulverization of the conceptual linkage between athletic balance "on paper" and the final score as produced by actual breathing, frisky human beings. Indeed, as my own contingent slipped behind 7-5 in the second inning, I nervously looked out over the broad expanses of San Pablo greenage, and in seeing no fewer than five power hitters on Jen’s team, I suddenly felt queasy, vulnerable and splayed stark naked before the sheer recreational peril of the long journey ahead.
In retrospect, of course, it may be tempting to avoid communal castigation and simply claim that their failure to score a single solitary point in the next seven innings is a result of well-intended but utterly virgin leadership, lacking even the most remote semblance of galvanizing cohesion. Yet I think that would be both coarse and unjust analysis, for ultimately, Jen’s debut at captainship was sabotaged by nothing less than the tragically random scourge of batter’s-rot, that most unpredictable and loathsome of all recreational contaigia. Pity.
In any case, I am fully aware that many of you will be traveling this week to distant hamlets in order to be with your parents, siblings, in-laws, cousins and other weirdoes in your extended family. That is certainly your prerogative, and as a fan of Thanksgiving myself, I am not about to say that you shouldn’t do so. But I would gently suggest that after consuming the traditional holiday feast of Turkey, yams, and pan-seared butter gristle, most of you will be in desperate need of working off the excess marbling that is an inevitable result of the decadence in question.
Regardless, few seem to remember that when Captain Miles Standish and Squanto rose to toast their good fortune on that frosty Plymouth evening in November 1621, both men agreed to a post-dinner match of exhilarating AAA Pilgrim Ball (A curious colonial pastime that most recreational historians now believe was an embryonic version of soccer, although it was actually played with darts). Unfortunately for the Wampanoag, their team lost 10-8, and thus under the pre-game agreement, they and their relatives had to abandon all of New England by 1625. Nevertheless, the honored tradition of combining hearty fowl-based meals with vigorous exercise was firmly established, and I for one see no reason to discontinue it now. Therefore, there will be a game at San Pablo this Sunday at 2PM, immediately followed by ultimate frisbee, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…..Raymond
PS: A Couple Procedural Notes:
1) In order to reduce the risk of over-subscribed games, for now on you should not assume you’re committed until you get a verification, and if you haven’t received it by the time the confirmation letter goes out, you should write me again. Most replies will be a simple ‘OK,’ so don’t be offended by the laconic tone of my cyberlove.
2) Over the next few weeks you should write me with suggestions that you think will make the games better (ie…pitch to your own team, new ways of picking sides, the use of mace, etc…).
11/24/00
Softball: Yams
Dear People,
There will be a game at San Pablo this Sunday at 2PM Sharp, and as of now, there are still a few slots available. PLEASE arrive no later than 1:58 so that we have time for a long post-game frisbee match, which every one of you obviously needs in order to counter your shamefully porcine behavior at yesterday’s feast….Ray
PS: The field fee this week is just $1, and that includes a complimentary copy of Sports Illustrated’s smash new swimsuit issue featuring "The Electoral Canvassing Boards of Southern Florida."
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