Softball: The Psychological Calculus of the Athlete in Motion
Dear People,
In one of those magnificent spleen-tingling paragons of pristine aerobic excellence, my team beat Chris Fure’s by that thinnest of crevices in nature’s awesome numerical repertoire, 19-18 (Sure, 23-22 might have been arguably as ‘thin,’ but would it have evoked the same lush images of Europe as the Great War finally ended? No, I didn’t think so). In any case, when a game is so consistently rich and taut, it’s natural to look back and ponder whether there was one particular play that acted as the dispositive turn, the proverbial tipping point, the gaseous effluvia of destiny, if you will.
I honestly don’t know, but I do know that I can’t get that stirring 4th inning dash out of my head. As I recall, Chris’ contingent was down 7-6 with Steve Martin poised as the tying run at 2nd. Suddenly, someone slammed a blistering line drive straight to Matt in center right, so Steve instantly darted toward 3rd like a panicked Norwegian zucker rat. Then, in a breathtaking act of sheer kinesiological majesty, the Martinator began one of the most glorious slides in the history of our community—his extended left heel acting as both pivot and break as his lithe, quickly descending torso angled ever closer to the brittle clays of the perilous Cordornices infield. It was, at first blush, simply sublime.
In retrospect, of course, it probably would’ve been more useful if Steve had chosen to position the slide in the final few feet leading up to 3rd base. Instead, he began his dramatic interface with the ground exactly half way between 2nd and 3rd, which in fact means that he came to a screeching halt over 10 yards from his presumptive target. Alas, when viewed in this context, it appears that Steve wasn’t “sliding” as much “miscalculating” or “stumbling” or perhaps more to the point, “behaving like a drunken buffoon.”
Now in fairness, he later explained to me that he was terrified of being pelted in the back of the head by one of Matt’s fearsome throws, and I have to tell ya, even I cherish the physical integrity of the human skull. Of course that’s why I always wear a yarmulke whenever I’m base running, and if Steve had done so, I imagine he would’ve had the confidence to slide into 3rd rather than into some pointless infield dust hole in the middle of nowhere. More than that, he would’ve pleased the Lord while retaining the reverence of his teammates, thereby assuring the triumph that, instead, utterly imploded with their communal self-respect. Yeah, actions have consequences that are both stark and abstract, and therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond
8/14/09
Softball: The Inspiring Level of National Discourse
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 an exciting post-game town hall meeting in which we will finalize the athletic benchmarks by which our league’s newly created death panel can sow the seeds of Godless aerobic tyranny…Raymond 845-7552