12/18/13

Softball: Reflections On Why We Don't Stop

Dear People,

My team methodically exploited an insidious leak in the mojo-gasket of Anthony's shell-shocked contingent, 14-6, proving once again that a leader who fails to galvanize is one who fails to lead (yeah-my words), and I'm not saying that just because the Antman, who never reads anything I write, makes an exceptionally fine scapegoat for the broader ineptitude of his tragically feckless peeps. Of course, I'm all about accentuating raw aerobic greatness over the unseemly spectacle of rank athletic failure, and that's why I'd prefer to focus on Jerry's staggering dominance at the mound-with his seductive blend of curve, screw and bungee balls-as the more deeply satisfying explication for how we kept Tony's frightful plethora of power-hitters to just six pitiful runs.

Indeed, where's the narrative mirth in pointing out that Jim “lizard-lover” McGuire went hitless on five at bats for his worst performance since his triumphant return from the surgeon's blade over two long months ago? I just don't see it. Nor, for that matter, would I ever get my writer's-jolly in reporting on what happened to Frank with one on, two out and his team down 12-5 in the top of the 6th. Oh sure, he had that rare opportunity to transform the menacing inertia that threatened to swallow his side whole, and yet, that's not what he did. In fact, he struck out cold with the brute centrifugal force of a dreidel whose spastic post-swing spin captured the essence of a once-dignified athlete in the throes of a rally-killing disgrace, and while I'm sorry for having to write that, I have no choice but to calls it as I sees it.

Actually, I mention all this because I happened to notice that next week is the 2,117th anniversary of the birth of the inimitable Jesus Christ (give or take a decade), and more specifically, the mangerian arrival of his very first trio of followers-the legendary Three Wise Guys. As we all know, they humbly came bearing gifts of frankincense and myrrh, and while perhaps I'm being overly speculative, I found myself thinking that if Frank hadn't been named after this most invidious of the great aromatic resins, he likely would've had the requisite self-esteem to avoid that totally retardo strike-out. In fact, I suspect that good ol' Myrrh-mouth would've slammed a zeitgeist-shattering triple instead, but as I've said before, who really knows why anything ever happens?

The point is that given the upcoming holiday, I wasn't even going to organize a game this weekend, but then I started thinking about what the Christmeister himself would do (WWTCMHD?), and it occurred to me that if we didn't play, that would be denying the athletic essence of the ancient Hebraic people. Moreover, it would be giving in to all those Godless yule-log hating socialists who've never stopped their ceaseless war on Christmas, White Santa, fruitcake and goodness. So yeah, I may have been a bit harsh with Lizardboy and Myrrhmaid, but I suspect all three of us agree that certain values are simply worth playing for. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning . . . Raymond




12/20/13

Softball: Xmas Options

Dear People,

There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, and as of now there are still five slots left.

Please bring $4 for the field, which for this week only includes either a rare 3rd edition print of Colliers' classic Hungarian-Thai Bilingual Law Dictionary or a post-game walking tour of the hidden mosh pits of Central El Cerrito . . . Raymond 845-7552

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