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Monday, June 20, 2005

What's The Matter...Can't Take A Joke?.. 


Hey, look, it's friggin' "Monday" already...This (startling) revelation can mean only one thing: That "one thing" is that the stinkin' weekend went a little too fast...Damn!..That said, I do have a wee tale of weekend-related sporting triumph to relate to you all...First, though, I need to grab a digital shoehorn and retrofit a "happy father's day" message into this entry...Here goes:

Hey, happy father's day, dad!

Ok, it is now the time TO SING THE SONGS OF SPORTING TRIUMPH...or something...heh...Anyway...

On Friday night, my wife and I had some softball to play with the B52 team that we play on...On Fridays...Anyhow, the game was against a team that had, in the past, pretty much "owned" our team...Now, not to brag, but collectively, us B52s are a pretty decent co-ed softball team, so a team that can defeat us on a regular basis is kind of rare...There are, however, certain instances wherein we flat out "can't get our crap together," so to speak...Up until this past Friday, playing against the aforementioned "opposing team" has been an exercise in futility for the B52s, resulting in as many losses as games played against them...As Friday's game got underway, and we played a bit, things started to "not look too bad for us"...We put some runs on the board early and, conversely, were playing pretty well on the defensive side of the ball...I didn't really have occasion to notice much of anything going on outside of the gameplay for a couple of innings. Soon enough, though, I became acutely aware, as did everyone else on the team, of an "fat and obnoxious drunk guy" who was in the spectator area...This particular fella' was somehow connected to the team that we were playing, though he wasn't playing in the game himself...He had, at some point, decided to move past the role of "cheerleader," and began to actually "trash-talk" our team, singling us out when we were at bat, or in the field, laughing hysterically for no real reason, screaming when we went to swing at a pitch, or (in my case) just generally insulting our game play or appearance...Usually, I can ignore people like this and USUALLY the home plate umpire will eventually step up and tell "random obnoxious fan" to either quiet down or leave...

Did you see that? Huh? Did you, in fact, see how I said "usually" in all caps? Ha HA!..That there's FORESHADOWING, man!...

Unfortunately, on Friday, we had ourselves an umpire at home plate who was officiating only his fourth game ever and turned out to be too sackless to call balls and strikes, let alone tell someone behind the fence to "tone things down"...Add to this the fact that his "partner," who was the field umpire, just "generally don't give a shit," our loudmouth fatty friend soon figured that he could act with relative impunity...Not helping matters, Us B52s had ourselves a "pretty bad inning," at one point, in which we allowed the opposing team to rack up 7 or 8 runs. With what appeared to be an insurmountable lead for "his team," ol' chubby was really letting loose, laughing and taunting up a storm, while ingesting (quite possibly) his 12th beer of the evening...I could tell that his antics were wearing on the nerves of some of my teammates, especially the females...I soon decided that something had to be done to "shut his ass up." Now, I couldn't very well just walk up to him and knock him out...That "solution" would just get me in "trouble." Along the same lines, I didn't think that going over to him (sans the hitting) and merely telling him to "shut the fuck up" would work well either, in fact I figured that if I did something like that, it would only add "fuel to his fire." You see, the last thing which you want someone like that to know is that they're getting to you...Still, this turd had to be silenced...Forgive me for being dramatic, but our "honor" was on the line...

We HAD to win the game...I decided, at that point, that if we WERE to accomplish such things, I would have to hit a home run...

Now, I don't normally put THAT kind of pressure on myself before any at-bat, let alone when we're behind, but I knew that, if we were going to rally and win, we would need a boost...I knew, also, that I had to let this jackass know that he was, in fact, hurting his own team by being an obnoxious jerk...I had the whole scenario planned out in my mind: I would foul the first pitch off, which would give "him" an opportunity to begin talking trash to me and, at the same time, give me time to turn around and give him a good "stare down." After that, I would proceed to "nail" the next pitch into a far-away part of the outfield and run like hell, scoring on the play and delivering a very healthy "rude gesture" of some sort to "fat-chops" as I crossed home plate..."Heck yeah," I thought..."that'll shut him up good..."

I then figured that, while the whole scene played out well in my imagination, I should somehow change that "rude gesture" to something a little more...tame...Anyhow...

Speaking truthfully, I figured that it would be a "cold day in Hell" before any "revenge scenario" which I dreamt up would come into being...Heck, I really do tend to be a whole lot of "daydream" and not a lot of "execution," but the game was still going, so I guess I could have a shot at it...Come to find out, in the top of what ended up being the final inning of play, things were, indeed, looking as if I would at least get a chance to fuck up my perfect revenge plot follow through on my "diabolical plan"...I was the second batter up, with no outs, the female who was batting in front of me already on base. Not surprisingly, Chubb-rock was still spewing his inane bullshit...As I took my place in the batter's box, he began berating me, as he had done during my other two at bats in the game. I took a sharp, early cut at the first pitch and sent it foul...This, of course, gave Mr. Fatty occasion to emit a maniacal cackle...I turned sharply and stared directly at him, which stopped his annoying laughter cold dead, a look of shock frozen on his drunken and pudgy face...After giving him the good, hard "stink-eye," I turned back towards the batters box...

Up until this point in the game, I had been trying (albeit unsuccessfully) to look for a "weak spot" in the opposing team's outfield...Earlier in the game, I had been robbed of a hit courtesy of a great play by their left-fielder, so hitting THAT way was out of the question...I also figured that, if I hit the ball in the air to center, the aforementioned left-fielder would probably catch up to it...Since the park and rec changed to a softer-core ball (to prevent injury to players, you see), actually hitting the ball out of the park was unlikely, especially considering the swirling wind which was prevalent on friday night...I ultimately decided that I'd have to "line-drive" the ball, low and hard toward center or right field to even have a chance of hitting this home run I so desperately craved...With all of that self-imposed pressure seated squarely on my shoulders, I made ready for the next pitch...

I should take this opportunity to share a tiny little nugget of information about slow-pitch softball, in case you've never had the occasion to participate in the sport...There are times that the ball seems to hang up in the air FOR-FRICKIN-EVER before it comes down toward you...My last at-bat on Friday evening was one of those times...However, when said pitch (finally) came within striking distance, I swung the bat well, smacking the piss out of the damn thing and sending it on a frozen rope towards left-center field...I then took off like a "bat out of Hell," running as fast as a fat kid with a bad achilles can...As I approached first base, I glanced up and saw that the left-center fielder had let the ball GO BETWEEN HER LEGS! "SHE MISSED THE BALL! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE" my brain began yelling...I saw that the ball had made it all the way to the fence as I was nearing second base and was thinking to myself that there was no way that even that damn left fielder, as good as he was, could recover to back up the play and throw me out...Still, I was anxious approaching third, hoping that I didn't suddenly screw things up...I knew that, if we were to win and, especially, if that fat friggin' loudmouth was EVER going to "shut the Hell up," I HAD to score on this trip around...As I approached third, I got the "go ahead" from the player coaching the base..."Hot damn," I thought..."This really is all coming together"...

I just had to figure out what I was gonna do after I crossed home plate...

Back to reality...I noticed that the opposing team's catcher was crowding said "home plate" as I neared, making motions which suggested that he was about to receive the "ball"...The ball itself, though, never came close to said catcher, nor would it have arrived in time to tag me out...Despite a half-assed attempt by this "catcher" to bump me wide of the plate, I made it home. As I crossed home plate, I could hear cheers from both my teammates and also my family members who were in attendance...I then turned toward my obese agitator and made the cheers twice as loud as I pointed decisively at him, as if to say that what I had just accomplished was for him and him alone...This simple gesture, performed in front of everyone in attendance, rendered him, for possibly the ONLY time in his drunken, pathetic life, "speechless." Yes, our buddy was suddenly a drunk idiot without anything drunkenly idiotic to say...

And, oh yeah..."Holy crap...I actually DID it"...

Apparently, once Tubbs regained his bearings, he DID think of SOME things to say, but I wasn't listening anymore...From that point in the game on, his taunts had no effect on our team...We rallied in the inning and went on to win the game, earning a much-needed victory against a team that has been able to beat us pretty much at will in the past...After the game, I could hear fat chops yammering on about something, still trying to get my attention. I never did acknowledge his existence, but I did hear him squeak somethin' out between his drunken "fuck yous" and "you sucks" that were aimed my way...What timeless words of sage wisdom escaped his inebriated lips, you ask?..

"I was only kidding, man."

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