Softball: Counterfactuals, all the way Down

[raymond...@gmail.com]

Dear People, 

 

Let me cut straight to the chase: Just because we had no choice but to succumb to yet another unprovoked climatic hissy-fit does not mean we are bereft of our inherent dignity as an aerobic folk, and if I have to resort to quantum supposition, 10-dimensional space-time, AI, and some garden-fresh peyote to prove it, then that’s what I’m gonna’ do. That’s right, because here were the teams going into that thunderous Sunday morn,’ before our succumbinization and all its implicit disgrace: 

 

Ray (1^st/C)                                    Burt (1^st/C)

Jim McGuire (C/1^st)                    Mark Laber (C/1^st)

Steve Bedrick (P)                        Bobby F (P)

Jordan (3^rd)                                  Dan May (3^rd)

Eoin (SS)                                      Chris Fure (SS)

Kira (2^nd)                                      Donna (2^nd)

Tim L (L)                                        Michael Hersh (L)

Matt (CL)                                       Darwin (CL)

Ari (CR)                                         David G (CR)

Jerry S (R)                                     Brian B (R)

Bobby W [Rotator]                         James [Rotator]

 

To be sure, the possibility of an infinite number of quantum-created universes may seem ‘abstract’ or even cuckoo-for-cosmological-cocoa-puffs, but I’ve done the math myself and I figure there are in fact at least 3 billion of them out there. And no, I don’t digress, for with the release of Claude-Aerobic 4.5, we’ve clearly arrived at the magical singularity where these fonts of super intelligence can look at team rosters with such an incredibly discerning eye that they can basically know what has happened in those alternate cosmos where we weren’t totally screwed by the contemptible pissant rain. 

 

Now look, most of you who play are familiar with all the fine homo-athletici above, and while I don’t want to be presumptuous, I think we could all agree that these contingents are so finely balanced on paper that the changing online odds would never stray beyond the numeric limits of 49 and 51%, or what Jimmy the Greek used to call “the tauty zone.” J the G was a total perv, of course, but Claude is not and it did pick up a deeply nuanced factoid that all of us most likely missed, which was that while I would be captain of my side, Chris Fure would be shepherding his own, and yeah, I think you see where the Claudester is going with this.

 

The fact is that across 1.5 billion stringy little branes this past weekend, my team beat the Furinator’s by an average score of 83-0, and while I certainly don’t want to be braggadocio, I’d like to think that means something. And therefore there will be a game at Codornices this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning . . . Ray