feather2pixels

Wednesday nights:  lose at softball, drink with pirates.

 “Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”  -James 1:4

 Late summer softball in the Presidio is forcing something unnatural.  In the midst of a fifty mile fog bank flooding in from the Pacific at 15 miles per hour, our outfielders could be forgiven if they couldn’t tell what the fuck was happening at the plate, nevermind having a fair hope of catching anything for the duration of our double-header last night.  The first game was competitive, but a smash to the cumulus cloud that was center field virtually guaranteed the opposition of their game-clinching grand slam.  We lose again.  Ah, but what of the second game?  Suddenly every one was finding ways to scratch and claw their way on base, our infield defense became a lock box and there was even an unbelievable running catch in center right field. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, after a summer of softball, Some Other Team has their first-ever victory.  (Technically a win by forfeit, due to a girl shortage).

To-shi-o and I joined a softball team organized by his coworker Mike. So it was that ‘neath the Tuesday night moonshadow of the Golden Gate Bridge we were slugging it out against Victorious Secret with twelve of our new best friends. While the opposition warmed up on the field, we set up our grill. And drank. The first inning ended with a seven run limit, the hot dogs were brown by the third, and in the fourth I fucked up my left knee breaking up a play at third base. Probably because we only had an hour to play anyway, the mercy rule was not enforced. Final score: 22-1.