Monday, May 11, 2009

Game Recap - Mother's Day Madness

Salutations, dear softball brethren!

Sunday's brilliant outing provided a clandestine, insta-classic match for the ages. Like the over-arcing theme of a Proust or Joyce novel, yesterday's torrid affair was based upon that unrelenting constant of human existence existentially, incompletely and obtusely known as "time." Or, to be put more concretely: old-ass creaky-joints motherfuckas versus barely-legal teen jailbait.

Yes, on the day set aside to celebrate our mothers (the invaluable cargo vessels charged with delivering us safely to the magnificent shores known as life), a brave crew gathered in the tepid heat to do battle on the field of glory. As the (let's be honest) underwhelming numbers slowly arrived solo or in pairs, an enticing proposition was offered--the youth (for they are our future!) and their youthfulness would spar with the aged ones (for they are our present!) Also, there can only be one. Highlander, et al.

The vigorous Baby Dicks took to the skies and flew like the brash, majestic eagles they so obviously were, jumping out to a quick 9-0 lead after just one inning of play. But the Council Elders (note: not the squad's real name, but records of the contest are incomplete, at best) simply needed a few innings to warm the joints. By the seventh inning stretch, the wily vets had crawled back into striking distance, trailing only by a flimsy handful of runs. IT WAS A GAME, PEOPLE!

Unfortunately for the wise old souls, it was not meant to be. They dug deep, managing to trim the lead to a paltry 21-20. Alas! Could their youthful opponents simply be toying with the creaky, over the hill has-beens? (Shakes Magic Eight Ball) "All signs point to yes." The intrepid Baby Dicks tacked on a few insurance runs and pulled out a barnburner, 23-20. Wisdom was passed down from one generation to the next, Social Security numbers were revealed, and the youngsters confused the oldies with tales of a curious place called "the internet." Music today, with all the sexin' and swearin', it's no good! Yeah, whatever gramps. You know what I'm sayin'?

But wait! Controversy was afoot! One of the Baby Dicks' most stalwart and valuable of players, a certain "Pam," was rumored to have forged her birth certificate in an effort to join the most obviously superior team. Channeling the myriad Latin American baseball superstars in every conceivable manner--including dubious insistence of youth as well as 5-tool skills and unflappable calm in high-pressure situations--the player in question quite possibly was the game-changing force for the Baby Dicks. Will this game go under review by the League office? Stay tuned, true believers!

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