Softball: The Majesty of Intergenerational Inspiration

[raymond...@gmail.com]

Dear People,

 

On a blistering morn’ in which the legendary Anthony Weatheroy took the reins of captainship for the first time since becoming his cherished daughter’s father, my team battled his with tenacity and pizazz. Of course adorable 6-year-old Annabell was there in the bleachers rooting excitedly for her pop’s peeps, and so naturally the moral clarity with which I lead my own side was cleaved from its zeal by the potential of a triumph that would be tragically tainted by childhood heartbreak. Yeah, it’s hard to wield power when you’re sensitive, but as my contingent jumped out to a commanding 11-4 2nd-inning lead, I quickly reassessed and then concluded that the kid simply had to learn that the world is not all milk and honey. Sure, call me a childless and insensate monster if you must, but I had a contingent to shepherd. 

 

Now, to be sure, early-inning momentum is not a guarantee of ultimate glory, but throughout most of the game’s first two trimesters, we were a resolute unit that made all the fun plays; I think of Michael Davey’s RBI double over Anthony’s classic Statue-of-Liberty defense that not so infrequently puts a subtle lack of depth perception in sharply stark relief, or Stefano’s equally heuristic double over Chris Fure’s bewildered little brain. And of course at 2nd we had Miles, whose lack of infield seasoning was more than compensated for by his two chasing tag-outs of utterly confuddled runners. Sure, in both cases he could’ve just tossed the orb back to Sydney for the easy force, but the mavericks who change the world don’t ‘do’ conformity, and frankly, I think that as a progress-lovin’ species, we should all be grateful for that unabashedly defiant ’tude.

 

In any case, the point is that we went into the 6th with big mo', tactical clarity and a still cushy 15-10 lead, but in the bottom of that transformative tranche, I could see the Antman looking anxiously into his little girl’s own angst-ridden eyes. And then, from deep within his inner paternal core, he unleashed his posse for eight zeitgeist-shifting runs, six as a part of a two-out rally that shook us to the bone. Even worse, we gave up an additional six two-out runs just two innings later, and thus when it was all said and done, my side went down in an Annabell-galvanized ambush of jaw-dropping jiujutsu, 25-22. 

 

That’s right, mes amis, as a barren cynic from the earliest days of my post-clippage youth, no loss has ever taught me more about the bitterly nuanced tradeoffs of a life without spawn. And therefore there will be a game at Codorncies this Sunday at 11, IF I get enough commits by this Friday morning . . . Ray

 

PS: I have a dreadful dental appointment this morning, so don’t panic if it takes me longer than usual to confirm your commits.