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Friday night…

Played for the Swing Kids.  I was feelin’ pretty good all day (especially after my Thursday night jog with Ali), and was looking forward to softball.  3-4, single, double, and a triple… 0 RBI’s…  This team is in need of some offensive infusion, and I was happy I was able to supply some of it despite a losing effort.  Still, it was a fun game as the Kids were in it throughout. 

After the game, I made the trek to Moscone to play for the Black Sox.  Only my second game for the Sox, and boy, were they happy to see me.  Well, most of them.  Benny, the Black Sox manager was absent, and appointed the 1st baseman, Mike, to be the acting manager.  Mike, who sucks, always seems to find every chance to play his son in the game.  His son (I don’t even know his name), sucks just as bad. 

Game starts, I look at the lineup and I see I am batting 6th.  Usually, I don’t care where I’m batting, but for this team of powerless hitters, I need to be placed in an optimum position to bring in runs.  Mike’s son is batting 2nd… go figure.

1st inning… Louis gets on base with a single.  Mike’s son forces him out at second and almost gets double off if not for his marginal speed (after all, he is faster than daddy).  Jesse (our third hitter), forces out Mike’s son.  Matt, our clean up hitter, takes a walk.  Reid, batting 5th, loads the bases with two outs.  I finally come up.  Curtis, the home plate umpire, gives me a handshake much to the shock of the opponent.  Our opponents (24-26 year old Chinese boys) remain defiant, as the manager yells at his team that "He (I) is not that good!"  Enraged by this lack of respect from these chumps, I proceed to jack the ball into the other field (against the wind).  GRAND SLAM.  As I cross home plate, Curtis looks at me and laughs.  I stare down the other team as they put their heads down in shame.

Long story short, Mike’s son does not make a single play.   Botches 7 plays.  I grumble and cuss loudly to show my displeasure as I continue to fire shots into third base.  On one of my throws, the third baseman, unfortunately, did not know he had to make the tag as it was not force out.  He caught the ball, tagged 3rd base, and threw the ball back to the pitcher.  The runner was as shocked as I was.  Where in the world do they find this fools to play?

We lose 18-13.  2 for 3, with a home run and 5 RBI’s…  I am reminded why I don’t make it a priority to play with these guys. 

Saturday…

After going to Dave and Jessie’s daughter’s birthday, I proceeded home and took a little nap.  Ali, who has been caught up with her new Ipod library, tells me she is pretty tired, but wants some mac and cheese because the Food Network was showing a mac and cheese competition.  Lazy as we are, we go to Boston Market at Foster City.  I thought the mac and cheese was horrible there, but Ali didn’t seem to mind. 

After the mac and cheese run, we drove to Bridgepoint and visited Toys ‘R Us.  We purchase some board games (The Game of Life & Monopoly) and head home. 

We bust out Life and re-learned how to play, as this is a new version, equipped with Stocks, Loans, Career and Salary pairings, and Real Estate choices.

Final: Ali retires with $1,020,000.  I retire with $900,000.  3rd time in 24 hours I lose. 

Sunday…

I’m enjoying the start of the NFL season.  The games are exciting, and I have a pretty decent fantasy team.  So to rip myself away from the TV to play softball for the Cannons is unusally difficult.  Still there are 9 other guys counting on me to be there.

The Cannons accrue 5 hits.  Final score: 16-0.  Enough was enough!  I looked all around at my teammates.  Sure, they were already dejected… but I went ballistic.  From what I recalled from my emotional tirade, I told them, "I don’t understand why the f*ck we can’t get the ball out of the f’en infield!  We’re all grown men yet we’re hitting like a bunch of f’en p*ssies!  I can’t stand this sh*t anymore!  Why the f*ck am I driving 25 miles every Sunday for this kind of weak sh*t!?  I’ve been quiet for a long time now and I see we are playing f*cken worst.  3 f’en hits!  (I was wrong, it was 5)  F*ck it!  You guys aren’t going to quit on me!  I’m going to quit on you first!  F*ck!"  And I stomped off. 

After I got into my car and took a deep breath, I felt really bad for going off like that.  But hell, these guys have been playing too long to be so bad.  I’m sick and tired of it.  This team is in need of some new blood for a while now… and it may be time to dismantle it and rebuild.

Final weekend tally: 0 Wins, 4 Losses

This entry was posted on Monday, September 17th, 2007 at 10:52 am and is filed under Current Affairs, Food and Drink, Sports, Thoughts. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.