Last night I gave Joe a bunch of grief about having to go play softball three towns over at 9:30 p.m. His team is always desperate to have enough girls to meet Boston Ski & Sports Club's "Is it fair or is it sexism? You decide" co-ed regulations, so Joe becomes a used-car salesman and starts recruiting every female he knows, and of course I get hit up first and worst. I agreed to play in this game weeks ago, so it's my own fault. Sometimes I like playing, but it's totally a mood thing. A gorgeous June evening, down the street, at 6:30? Sure. 9:30 during the muggiest week of the summer, after a late night, a long day, and the gym, getting bitten alive under the lights? Not so much.
Anyway, I went, albeit with an attitude. I caught the first inning because two girls hadn't shown up yet, and in that inning the other team scored like 9 runs. It was crazy. I cut my finger and took a hard foul tip in the kneecap. Joe's team had done well all season (8-2 record) but this game was a disaster.... they called the mercy rule in the 6th. Our side was so unproductive that most of us only got two at-bats; I went 1 for 2 with a run and 2 RBIs. My hit was solid and went over the shortstop's head. The umpire was stupid and called everything strikes on us and everything balls on them. Our pitcher walked 5 batters. In my second at-bat, the umpire called the first pitch a strike even though it was high, and I swung through strike two. The next pitch was short of the plate and low but I had to swing anyway because she probably would have called it strike three. Anyway, I grounded out.
It was over in an hour and the final score was something like 20-7. It sucked that the season ended that way, but at least we were home by 11 and able to catch up on what's going on in the funktastic 70's House. Oop! Oop! Shit, I just got this overwhelming urge to go home and watch Dazed and Confused. I want to live in that movie sometimes. I miss that last-day-of-school euphoria, knowing you don't have a damn thing you have to do for three months, and the 70's seem so weird and fun, when the superficiality and selfishness of the 80's hadn't yet set in.
Anyway, I went, albeit with an attitude. I caught the first inning because two girls hadn't shown up yet, and in that inning the other team scored like 9 runs. It was crazy. I cut my finger and took a hard foul tip in the kneecap. Joe's team had done well all season (8-2 record) but this game was a disaster.... they called the mercy rule in the 6th. Our side was so unproductive that most of us only got two at-bats; I went 1 for 2 with a run and 2 RBIs. My hit was solid and went over the shortstop's head. The umpire was stupid and called everything strikes on us and everything balls on them. Our pitcher walked 5 batters. In my second at-bat, the umpire called the first pitch a strike even though it was high, and I swung through strike two. The next pitch was short of the plate and low but I had to swing anyway because she probably would have called it strike three. Anyway, I grounded out.
It was over in an hour and the final score was something like 20-7. It sucked that the season ended that way, but at least we were home by 11 and able to catch up on what's going on in the funktastic 70's House. Oop! Oop! Shit, I just got this overwhelming urge to go home and watch Dazed and Confused. I want to live in that movie sometimes. I miss that last-day-of-school euphoria, knowing you don't have a damn thing you have to do for three months, and the 70's seem so weird and fun, when the superficiality and selfishness of the 80's hadn't yet set in.
5 Comments:
Alright alright alrightttttt.......evenin' ladies, owwwww, nice.
Watch the leather, man!
Say man, you have a joint?.....It'd be a lot cooler if you did.
Hey, you still drivin' into Houston tommorrow to get those Aerosmith tickets??
That's what I love about these high school girls... I get older, they stay the same age.
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