12/17/03

Softball: A Stirring Sign of God

Dear People,

Congratz to all on last week’s soggy but sensual 12-9 aerobic melange of spirited defense, dominant pitching and frisky families of river sturgeon. My team was sublime in its triumph, staving off a pernicious 9th inning rally from Frank’s contingent, yet that’s not what this is about. The simple fact is that a more craven people would have undoubtedly refused to play after seeing that all of center-left was better suited for fresh-water snorkeling than softball, but as I’ve made clear over the years, we are not a craven people. We do what we have to, stoic and stout, no matter how stark the conditions and how low the pay. That’s what we do, that’s who we are. Yes…we are idiots.

In any case, I was thinking about all of this last night as I was taking my usual evening stroll through my new neighborhood, with its genteel lawns, deep cherry woods and annoyingly shishi retail sector. And I found myself thinking about how, as a people, we’re so profoundly defined by the environs in which we play, and specifically, how we’ve come to spiritually embody both the lush green grasses of Codornices as well as the feral tundra beyond left field, with its vast communities of yak, bison and vegetarian rutting hounds.

So as I was walking, reflecting further on the glory of our chosen sport and how it’s always observed by those dozens of semi-hidden but clearly transfixed mammalian eyes, I soon stumbled upon the closest retail store to my humble new $200 million-dollar bungalow. And yes, to my utter amazement, I suddenly realized that this non-descript little boutique, just one short block from the new Chez Moi, is called none other than "The Tail of the Yak"!! Yep, I shit you not—See for yourself;

[ http://www.elmwoodshop.com/pages/stores/tailoftheyak.html ].

As you can imagine, I became almost drunk with the swirl of karmic implications, and yet I am not one to dally in the allures of Calvinistic pre-determinism. Still, how else to explain that I, the only aerobic Yakiphile you know, ended up living virtually in the shadows of this discreet yet towering symbol of the deeply misunderstood nexus between the great grazing bovines, unaffiliated email-organized sport and totally overpriced junk? Call me a psychopath if you must, but I don’t think it’s a coincidence. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Raymond


12/19/03

Softball: Gifts of Tender Seduction

Dear People,

There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11:00, and as of now, there are still three slots left. If it rains before then, you’ll need to check email or call that morning.

Please bring $2 for the field, which for this week only includes a generous post-game carafe of Clos Du Bois Chardonnay, served lovingly over ice with a corn dog and flu shot….Raymond 845-7552

Softball: Sunday 9:55AM: Plan B!! (Every Choice A Risk….)

Much to my horror, Codornices is officially closed (and semi-drowned in a most foul and fetid manner). HOWEVER, as of a few minutes ago, Kleeberger was empty, all of its verdant polyurethane strands calling out for our presence.

We will meet at Kleeberger at 11:00! NO EXCUSES/Two slots left/Be there….Raymond










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