Tonight was softball game #5 of the new season. We play fall ball here in the Boston area well into October. Our team, the Somerville Orange Stockings (or O-Sox if you want to shorten it) had a game tonight out at Chelsea High School. We don't usually play there and to be honest the only reason I would ever step foot in Chelsea, other than to play a softball game, would be if I needed a discount on tires or a checked cash on the spot. It has been no secret that my biggest complaint with playing softball is the competition, or lack of. We play 70% of our games against teams that would fare no better if they stepped up to bat swinging a severed monkey tail. And don't get me started on how bad they are at fielding. You put Stephen Hawking on 3rd and we have a harder time getting on base.
Well tonight we got to play a good team for a change. It was great, even if I suffered the worst humility I have suffered since I accidentally gave an ex-girlfriend a Valentine's Day card that said "Happy Valentine's Day, Mom". (true story, back in 1999, I didn't get lucky that night either). Going into tonight's game, I was 16 of 16 - batting a perfect 1.000. If you go back to last season I was 22 of my last 22. I've never considered myself a very good hitter, so this was rare air I was breathing, and fuck me if I didn't like it. Every time I got in the batters box I was certain I was getting a hit. I had stopped swinging for the fences and started focusing on hitting grounders, which baring a fantastic play, I am usually able to leg out. Well tonight, I take a few pitches and run the count to 3-2. Next pitch looks low. Nope, strike 3. I'm walking back to the bench with my cock in my hand not knowing if I'll ever be able to show my face in public again. There isn't much you can say after looking at Strike 3 except "Yes, I owe a 30-pack - would you like Schlitz or Golden Anniversary (do they still make that crap)?"
My next at bat I went back to base hitting. And boy was it worth it. I rounded first base and noticed that the center fielder didn't play it cleanly so I was headed for second. I knew it was going to be a close play. I slide - safe. The second basemen, a woman in tight spandex tried to tag me out, apparently by sticking her muff in my face. And I didn't even have to pay anything!
Next inning our shortstop, Josh, makes an incredible diving catch and doubles up the runner on second. I could tell it was a satisfying play, because the inning before Josh had a ball go right off the tip of his glove on a similar play. I heard him mutter on the bench, "If I were two inches taller....I blame my mother for that". That got me thinking. I blame my mother for my inability to dance - she didn't listen to enough R&B growing up.
We end up playing solid defense down the stretch and win a thriller 13-12. I'll trade the strikeout for the victory, even if it means I'm going to have to sit down to pee tomorrow morning, and maybe the morning after that.
After the game I stopped at my second favorite pizza place in Harvard Square, Pinnocchio's. (Are those hookers out front? You tell me.)
It is a whole in the wall, but they make good pizza. It also allows me to drive through Harvard Square playing another fun game that I like to play that involves me not yielding to pedestrians. NOTE TO ALL PEDESTRIANS: If I have a green light, and you don't have the little man telling you it is OK to walk, I will not yield. In fact, I will make an attempt to scare you so bad that by the time you get to the other side of the street, you have a little piece of poo sitting in your underpants. If you are going to jaywalk, put a little fuckin' hop in your step and make it across the street in under 10 seconds. Run like you are about to be run down.
Anyways, I came close to 4 pedestrians (by close I mean within 10 feet), which is not a record for me, but it is enough to put a smile on my face. One of them was in a wheelchair too! (bonus points).
So I know what all of you are thinking. Why blog now you son-of-a-bitch? After taking 3 months off, you expect us to read your drivel now? Well, yes and no. No, I don't expect anyone to read except those who have reminded me that I haven't blogged yet this quarter (Kris, Josh). Considering some of the shit I find myself reading on the internet, I suppose this is no worse. Am I going to promise to make regular blog posts? Of course not, I don't make promises I cannot keep. But I will promise you that I will try, and that is the best you are going to get.
