3/25/02
Softball: Guilt, Poetic License and the Subtle Lessons of Easter
Dear People,
Nuanced congratz to all on last week’s somewhat-less-than-rousing 38-13 travesty of the usual competitive rigor that defines us as a people. Unfortunately, the egregious reality is that this game was the most shameful blowout in the five year history of our cherished experiment in athletic democracy, and thus I suspect that in the weeks ahead, many of you will inevitably defect to intramural soccer, amateur nude croquet and Greco-Roman mud-rutting. Fair enough, but let me state with clarion conviction that when the press comes knocking on your door, you only harm yourself when you deny that you were ever a part of us, and I think that ultimately, you understand this.
In any case, the obvious question is how such a lopsided monstrosity could have ever occurred, and more precisely, how this can be prevented in the future. Now look, we all know that I created the teams and thus you’ll think what you will, but I would gently point out that when I put Joshua, Franklin, Frank, Tom AND Ken on the same opposing force, no one could have possibly predicted that all five of these dominating musk-scented super-studs would suddenly succumb to the same spontaneous outbreak of weirdo recreational autism. And when viewed in this context, I think that Dave K’s bitter 7th inning allegation that I had intentionally stacked his side with "the good ones who suck" is both scurrilous and unfair.
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Regardless, and as most of you know, this weekend marks the 1,965th anniversary of the day that Jesus Christ rose from the dead, in perhaps the most impressive act of aerobic renewal in the entire history of the Eastern Mediterranean. And indeed, because that wondrous day is now upon us, I had pretty much decided that there would not be a game this week, out of respect for the goysters among us. But then I started thinking about it some more, and as I ruminated on the delicate but fruitful relationship between the early Christians and the Stickball playing Jews of Eastern Mesopotamia, it suddenly occurred to me that I really couldn’t deny you a match without first asking that most obvious of ethical queries; What would the Christmeister do?
Well, in all candor, I’m not exactly sure, but I do know that Jesus’ post-resurrection jaunt to the Sea of Tiberius offers a compelling parable for all of us to ponder. As told in John 21, Simon, Thomas, Nathaniel of Cana and the sassy Zebedee boys (James and Vernon) had been fishing for days without luck or hope, but much hunger and parchment of throat. Suddenly, all of them saw their newly arisen Lord approach, and each became joyous, especially when Jesus told them to have faith, and that if they truly believed in him, they would be able to put their hands in the sea and cast their fingers on endless quantities of fresh biblical spawning trout. Sure enough, his words were proven correct, and all five lads soon relished a fine seafood feast with buttered corn and beer. And then, to celebrate their good fortune, Jesus challenged them to a friendly game of pre-ascension-to-heaven waterpolo.
Despite their superior numbers, the Lord crushed his followers 8-3, but I think we all know that’s beside the point. Rather, I believe that in choosing waterpolo over, say, chess and a pack of cigarettes, the Jesunator was explicitly endorsing a life of vigorous aerobic exercise, and frankly, I really doubt that any sedentary fat-ass biblical scholar could ever prove otherwise. And therefore, there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning….Ray
3/29/06
Softball: Quickly…
Codornices this Sunday at 11/ONE slot left/$2/Frisbee afterward…Ray 845-7552
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