Softball: Your American Revolution Sport
Dear People,
My team staved off Jonny’s, 11-7, in an awesome aerobic drama that featured a cornucopia of nausea-inducing medical crises. The good news is that Anthony’s left knee remains firmly ensconced in its rightful socket, and while I’m no doctor, I now have more faith than ever in his heroic lateral meniscus. Even better, Ken continues to speak and write as if only partially stoned, and that’s despite the fact that his 5th inning jaunt from 2nd to 3rd was somewhat abruptly interrupted by a 70 MPH fastball to the back of his tender little noggin. Personally, I was bracing to throw up as soon I witnessed the incident in question, but we’re talking about the Ken of Men here, and it was indeed he himself who stoically assured me that in the ceaseless rivalry between ball and brain, the robust human skull plays breathtaking defense.
Beyond these nasty ouchy-poos, our entire community was rocked by a blood-curdling brouhaha that burgeoned on the frisky participation of two dogs and a nutcase. As best I could tell, Enid’s beloved pooch Betty, a generally sweet and deeply misunderstood pitbull, was relaxing in the bleachers and taking in the game when a decent-looking spaniel-rottweiler mix traipsed by and started to sniff her butt. I’m sorry, but what kind of idiot sniffs a pitbull’s ass?! In any case, bitter doggie words were exchanged, tempers flared, and quickly, both schnauzers were locked in a frightful battle of paw and jowl. The snarls were piercing and the shrieking unbearable and the fact is that I was about to barf again when Ken stoically assured me that contrary to intuition, two growling bitches in a death-grip are merely expressing their curiously subtle affection.
In any case, Craig courageously pried them apart, and it all would’ve been over in seconds had the wacko owner of the visiting mystery-mutt not started ranting and raving about Betty’s alleged crimes against her and her dumb-ass dog and humanity in general. In reality, both owners were equally naughty before the law (in that both animals were off leash), but regardless, there’s no doubt that this woman is an abusive and raving lune, and I for one will simply not be inviting her to a game, no matter how good a hitter she is.
Yeah, that’s harsh, but the fact is that her scurrilous abuse reminded me of the exact attitude that King George III had when told of the Colonists’ irritation with the 1765 Stamp Act, and I’m not saying that just because I need a quick’n dirty segue into my usual 4th of July gibberish. I mean, sure, this Friday is the 232nd anniversary of our national birth, and given that so many of you will be taking off for the long weekend, I was thinking that I wouldn’t even bother to organize a game (If nothing else, Betty could use the rest before she’s inevitably subpoenaed). But then I started thinking about how I’ve handled this holiday in the past, and while I’m obviously not going to quote myself for the 10th year in a row, I would gently remind you of what I first wrote back in July 1997, when I was still an innocent scholar who saw raw historic truth as my only lover…
-------------------------------
As the 4th approaches, I am reminded of the intense pressures that Jefferson, Adams and Franklin must have felt when they decided to pen that most momentous of definitive divorces, their very lives at stake as cunning little fish-and-chips eating British troops scampered throughout the Pennsylvania bush. These intrepid and indefatigable revolutionaries would have no doubt given anything to play an exciting game of softball, but stuck as they were in the 18th century, they had to settle for yeoman farming and really boring arguments about the nature of mercantilism. I think you see my point. Make that commit. Do it for the children. Do it now. Indeed, the line from Alexander Hamilton to Jackie Robinson to all of you is the very essence of the American experience.
-------------------------------
Truth be told, I still get teary-eyed when I read that. So yeah, you can ignore the incalculable sacrifices of Ken and Anthony and Betty and decide to go off to some stupid overrated National Park, where zillions of spiders, mosquitoes and eels are determined to make your cutesy little getaway as miserable as possible, or you can do the right thing and stay here and play the one sport that honors the Founding Fathers, without whom we’d probably all be speaking Russian. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Ray
7/4/08
Softball: Laconic
Dear People,
There will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11AM, and as of now there are still four slots left.
$3 for the field/Happy 4th.….Raymond 845-7552