Monday, June 20, 2005
Sometimes You Gotta Ask Yourself: What Would Eddie Feigner Do?
Friday night we had dinner with The Fetching Bo, Joe E and others at "NYPD Pizza" in Chandler. As you might expect, pizza is their specialty. Duh, Crime Dog. Me, I don't trust just anybody with my pizza. The Fetching Mrs Crime Dog and I lived in Italy for a couple of years, so we earned the right to be picky. So of course, I ordered linguine with clams. Passable, but not great. I snitched a bite of Bo's pizza and DAMN, was that good! The server was also good, very good in fact. Joe E tried a number of times to scam her out of some free breadsticks, but she held her ground. That's saying a lot when it comes to defending against Joe E. Dude is a witch when it comes to scoring free shit.
After pizza, Bo and Joe E had a softball game in Tempe. What the hell, we decided, let's go watch. See, I used to play softball. Lots of softball, back in my military and police days, on some very good teams. I pretty much quit when my kids got big enough to play, and I turned to coaching. I guess now I've turned more to watching.
But what I watched Fiday night only vaguely resembled the sport I once excelled at. (OK, maybe "excelled" is a strong word, but I could play.) As the teams were warming up, I noticed a couple of odd things: There's two first bases, side by side. One in fair territory, and one in foul. It's freakin' huge. Then, I noticed that there was not one but two third baselines, each leading to its own home plate. One baseline and plate were where I expected them to be. The other canted off at an angle in foul territory, ending up with the faux plate about six feet away from the real one. The real plate has a big rubber mat with a cutout in it, so that the plate notches into the mat.
WTF? I only had one stinkin' beer. Did I get some bad clams?
As I contemplated these anomalies with something akin to double vison, the teams took the field and the game began. The first pitch smacks right in the middle of the plate.
Steeeee-rike!
Damn! This ump is blind! The ball hits the plate, and he calls it a strike. Dumbass.
Then the batter swings at the next pitch and misses, drops his head, and goes back to the dugout. Another dumbass. What's wrong with these people? Can't count? That's only strike two.
A few batters later, this guy gets a base on balls. It's only three balls, but they give it to him. Can't anybody count in this league? The batter hits first, turns and heads for second. Yet another dumbass! Can't he see the pitcher standing there with the ball in his hand? He's dead meat! But the pitcher makes no play, and the batter trots to second untouched.
Just what the fuck is going on here? None of this shit makes sense.
What we have here is something called co-rec softball. It truly sucks, having only a vague similarity to America's pastime. For once, I'm glad to be a half-century old. In my day, this shit would not stand.
It seems the same pansy-ass liberals who put helmets on kids, declared toy guns and "playing war" immoral, and who think "self-esteem" so critical that schoolkids don't get actual grades anymore must have gotten their pasty, lotioned-up hands on softball. Pussies.
See, you have to have two first bases and home plates to avoid collisions. Want to avoid a collision? Here's how:
It's called sliding. Or, you can just get the hell out of the way. Or maybe go bowling. Sissies.
That rubber mat thing helps the ump call balls and strikes. If a pitch hits the plate or the mat, it's a strike.
Bullshit. Then who needs an ump? I could make that call from the left-field bleachers.
The batter starts his/her at bat with a 1-1 count. If you walk a guy, he gets two bases. This keeps the pitcher from walking guys to get at girls. To make it worse, the following girl then has the option of simply going to first without batting.
Puh-leeze. Why pitch at all? Just hit the ball off a damn tee. No need for an ump, and no one has to actually count balls and strikes. All two of 'em.
If safety is all-important, then let's go all the way. Let's don't make anyone run at all. Hell, they might pull a muscle. You can just paint circles on the ground in the outfield, and mark them "Single, "Double," "Out," etc. Shit, you don't even need a defense that way. Why risk throwing the ball all over the place? Someone could get hit.
Here's something even better about my plan: Your opponents don't need to show up at the same time as you. You can each play your part of the game seperately, then compare notes later to see who won. That way, you can protect one another's self esteem by not subjecting your opponents or yourselves to a horrendous public ass-whipping. Let's not declare winners and losers. We can just have "first winners" and "second winners."
Sheesh. I'm too old for this bullshit. Somebody bring me a light beer.
TRIVIA QUESTION: On a hard ground smash, the pitcher snares the ball, but the force of the hit entangles the ball in the glove webbing. To save time, the pitcher tosses the glove with the ball still in it to the first baseman, who steps on the bag ahead of the runner. Is the batter out?
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After pizza, Bo and Joe E had a softball game in Tempe. What the hell, we decided, let's go watch. See, I used to play softball. Lots of softball, back in my military and police days, on some very good teams. I pretty much quit when my kids got big enough to play, and I turned to coaching. I guess now I've turned more to watching.
But what I watched Fiday night only vaguely resembled the sport I once excelled at. (OK, maybe "excelled" is a strong word, but I could play.) As the teams were warming up, I noticed a couple of odd things: There's two first bases, side by side. One in fair territory, and one in foul. It's freakin' huge. Then, I noticed that there was not one but two third baselines, each leading to its own home plate. One baseline and plate were where I expected them to be. The other canted off at an angle in foul territory, ending up with the faux plate about six feet away from the real one. The real plate has a big rubber mat with a cutout in it, so that the plate notches into the mat.
WTF? I only had one stinkin' beer. Did I get some bad clams?
As I contemplated these anomalies with something akin to double vison, the teams took the field and the game began. The first pitch smacks right in the middle of the plate.
Steeeee-rike!
Damn! This ump is blind! The ball hits the plate, and he calls it a strike. Dumbass.
Then the batter swings at the next pitch and misses, drops his head, and goes back to the dugout. Another dumbass. What's wrong with these people? Can't count? That's only strike two.
A few batters later, this guy gets a base on balls. It's only three balls, but they give it to him. Can't anybody count in this league? The batter hits first, turns and heads for second. Yet another dumbass! Can't he see the pitcher standing there with the ball in his hand? He's dead meat! But the pitcher makes no play, and the batter trots to second untouched.
Just what the fuck is going on here? None of this shit makes sense.
What we have here is something called co-rec softball. It truly sucks, having only a vague similarity to America's pastime. For once, I'm glad to be a half-century old. In my day, this shit would not stand.
It seems the same pansy-ass liberals who put helmets on kids, declared toy guns and "playing war" immoral, and who think "self-esteem" so critical that schoolkids don't get actual grades anymore must have gotten their pasty, lotioned-up hands on softball. Pussies.
See, you have to have two first bases and home plates to avoid collisions. Want to avoid a collision? Here's how:
It's called sliding. Or, you can just get the hell out of the way. Or maybe go bowling. Sissies.
That rubber mat thing helps the ump call balls and strikes. If a pitch hits the plate or the mat, it's a strike.
Bullshit. Then who needs an ump? I could make that call from the left-field bleachers.
The batter starts his/her at bat with a 1-1 count. If you walk a guy, he gets two bases. This keeps the pitcher from walking guys to get at girls. To make it worse, the following girl then has the option of simply going to first without batting.
Puh-leeze. Why pitch at all? Just hit the ball off a damn tee. No need for an ump, and no one has to actually count balls and strikes. All two of 'em.
If safety is all-important, then let's go all the way. Let's don't make anyone run at all. Hell, they might pull a muscle. You can just paint circles on the ground in the outfield, and mark them "Single, "Double," "Out," etc. Shit, you don't even need a defense that way. Why risk throwing the ball all over the place? Someone could get hit.
Here's something even better about my plan: Your opponents don't need to show up at the same time as you. You can each play your part of the game seperately, then compare notes later to see who won. That way, you can protect one another's self esteem by not subjecting your opponents or yourselves to a horrendous public ass-whipping. Let's not declare winners and losers. We can just have "first winners" and "second winners."
Sheesh. I'm too old for this bullshit. Somebody bring me a light beer.
TRIVIA QUESTION: On a hard ground smash, the pitcher snares the ball, but the force of the hit entangles the ball in the glove webbing. To save time, the pitcher tosses the glove with the ball still in it to the first baseman, who steps on the bag ahead of the runner. Is the batter out?
