Softball: Tales of the Athletic Testament

Dear People,

Congratz to all on a stellar 18-14* lesson in the hard fought travails of recreational immigration. A more timorous people would have no doubt fled at the first sign of Kleeberger’s occupation by the presumptuously metrosexual Cal Marching Band (with their annoying bassoons and hip-shaking swagger), but in choosing to loiter at the gates rather than flee, we soon basked in the glory of polyurethane liberation.

That sassy ’tude went on to infect the game itself, and no more so than in the bottom of the 7th, when bone chilling fissures began to open up in Mike Davey’s floundering contingent. As my own team fought back from a seven run deficit, we suddenly found ourselves down by just one run with the bases loaded, no outs, and Peter pitching as if he had just imbibed a well-chilled pint of Quaalude-spiked buttermilk. After he walked three batters in a row and tossed what seemed like 200 balls straight, Mike had seen enough, and thus he lumbered in from deep center field in order to put Chris on the mound. Yet the Peternater, in perhaps the feistiest act of aerobic disobedience to ever hit our community, decided to keep on pitching, convinced that his well-intended but misinformed captain was simply over reacting to an ephemeral bout of "Suck-throw."

For two additional pitches (two more balls) and 30 seconds, Peter looked as if he were the king of the world, and yet the hard reality is that every other player on his team actually wanted to "win." Thus, this towering symbol of gentle civility was soon left with few allies and scant political capital to continue on his crusade, and in fact, I later heard that Mike had Peter deported.

Still, that brief moment of fearless defiance brought a grand new era of personal integrity to our entire community. Of course this came to a screeching halt 11 minutes later when the arrival of the campus meter maids left every player on that field scurrying for their cars. Frankly, the sight of such an unseemly frenzy made me ashamed to be associated with any of you, but the real point is that in choosing to abandon the game after just eight innings, the playership as a whole made clear that while Mike’s team may have ultimately "scored" four more runs than my own, giant is the asterisk that taints the claim of their triumph.

In any case, and as some of you may know, tomorrow morning is the 2009th anniversary of the birth of Jesus Christ, give or take a decade. I mention this because most seem to forget that when the Three Wise Mensch arrived in Bethlehem, they gave Mary and Joseph a congratulatory basket of totally awesome Lord-birthing presents, including some fresh Myrrh, Frankincense and several blue-dotted orbs of the finest Samarian leathers. It is said that for his entire life, Jesus cherished those soft mysterious balls more than all his other possessions, and that includes both his favorite loin cloth and the Condo in Jericho. So yeah, nobody’s forcing you to enjoy a delicious game of softball this upcoming weekend, but in this most majestic of seasons, I would gently ask you "What would the Christmeister play?" I think we all know the answer, and therefore there will be a game at Codornices or Kleeberger this Sunday at 11AM, If I get enough commits by this Friday morning…Raymond



12/26/03

Softball: Open Enrollment

Dear People,

Contemptible weather permitting, there will be a game this Sunday at 11AM at either Codornices or Kleeberger, and as of now, there are still seven slots left. You are therefore encouraged to go out, find and commit your favorite non-community peoples, including the cherished bohemians, poets and pagans that make up the intriguing core of your little freako social circle.

$2 for Codornices/Free for Kleeberger/Uncertainty is growth/Check email about 10…Raymond




12/28/03

Softball: 9:50AM: Drowsy

OK, the hard reality is that I just woke up a few minutes ago and I’m still too sleepy to drive out and see if the field is offically closed but playable or offically open but sturgeon-filled or whatever. I have failed each and every one of you, and for that, I grieve.

Regardless, it hasn’t rained in three days, Kleeberger will probably be available as a backup, the sun is out, and life is risk, SO, we’ll meet at CODORNICES and let fate----raw, stark and arbitrary---take its perilous course.

Three slots left/See ya in an hour….Raymond


OR


12/28/03

Softball: 9:50AM: The Glory of Astroturf (Again)

I have just returned from Codornices, and despite the fact that her drainage is sublime and her soils merely yucky, she is still offically CLOSED. And I’m not writing that just because I like to use the female pronoun for an inanimate acre of cherished sod.

We will therefore play at KLEEBERGER, which was empty as of 10 minutes ago. And this time, in order to show the 200+ lurkers on this list that we are not a community of complete blithering idiots, I strongly suggest that everyone get there a few minutes early in order to find a parking space on the surrounding streets (As of now, there’s plenty of parking on Piedmont between the field and Bancroft).

Two slots left/See you in an hour….Raymond

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