Tuesday, August 02, 2005


Revenge: a dish best served with a side of...

So, Final Force, we meet again. For the first time. For the last time.

Wait...that made more sense in my head. We meet again...not for the first time, but certainly for the last time.

Unless we meet in the playoffs, in which case that will be the last time.

Until next year.

I suppose the point is, this is a rematch. A glorious rematch fraught with playoff implications. Just simply, really, a whole lot fraught with every manner of playoff implication. Both implied and explicit. But not explicit in a dirty way...this is a family site.

And oh what a game it was! A game bubbling with every manner of excitement you can imagine (assuming you agree to only imagine softball-related happenings).
At this point you might start to wonder why I'm stalling. Of course, it is pretty hard to tell when I'm stalling considering the fact that my writting has a tendency to meander. But in this case, I am stalling. I stall because I have very little idea what actually happened in that game. I'm trying to decide whether to just make stuff up or keep it short. Keeping it short isn't really an option so, if I forget some stuff, I'm just going to make some other stuff up to fill in the gaps. The end result will be the same, I imagine.
starting actual Fermiball entry...now!

It was a lusty evening, ripe with the scent of impending victory...and nachos (but I think that was because one guy was eating Doritos). This was an important rematch for the d0nuts as our last meeting resulted in a 5 inning slaughter. But this was a new night and it was clear something grand was going to happen as we finally had a full compliment of players - enough to even allow a DH.

And who did they call upon to fill the trickiest of all positions? Tricky? Yes tricky, because one has to maintain an intense focus throughout the entire game despite spending half the game on the sidelines. It takes the ultimate professional to man this position, so naturally they turned to me. (because, you know, I'm the ultimate professional. I'd rather be the Ultimate Warrior, but that post was already taken)

I paced the sidelines with anticipation, eager to try my hand at the plate. When my turn finally came in the second inning, we had already built an early lead...things were going well. I gave the pitcher the old "evil eye," perhaps putting the thought in the back of his head "this is one batter not to be triffled with." He pitched to me carefully, but I managed to square the ball with the bat and ground out solidly to short! As I took the right turn back to the bench I held my head high. I may not have made it to first, but I had clearly gotten into the pitcher's head.

And my mind games worked...and worked well. Every other player in the lineup managed hit after hit, racking up runs in a rapid fashion. Although I never managed a hit, I fullfilled my duty. In a typically unselfish manner, I sacraficed my own hits so that others could prosper. I went 0-4 so my fellow mates could dominate the offensive side of the game. I was a hero. Like Snoopy battling the Red Baron, I singlehandedly allowed my teammates to defeat Final Force by a score of 15-8 (a rare reference to the little known "Snoopy battles the Red Baron in Softball"). It was a brilliant victory. Even better? The Wife had a fantastic day at the plate with 3 hits and 4 times on base. She was in rare form.

(shhhh! Everyone get quite. This is going to get serious)

But there is one thing I failed to mention. Every night it fills my mind's eye and won't leave me. It is with great hesitation that I even share this with my readers as I fear I may cause a panic. But what I observed that day must be shared as ignorance is our biggest enemy.

...except for commies, but that is an entry for another day.

The ants are mobilizing. Yes, it's true.

The ants are marching.




This is not a joke! This is not a ploy for attention! (not entirely, anyway) This is a serious problem as ants outnumber humans about a billion to one (give or take a billion). A cluster of ants can skeletonize a cow in under an hour.


I've seen them convening at some of their favorite haunts: The half-eaten lollipop, the sidewalk crack, and the melting ice cream. They are organized this time. And they are angry.

I'm proposing the construction of a giant magnifying glass. A "doomsday-ifier", if you will. We must get the ants at their source (that would be anthills, naturally) and get them soon before they have a chance to rally the fire-ants. Or, god help us, the bullet-ant.

I'm not sure how much time we have left. I have to go now. All I have to say is: stay away from honey. And for the love of all that is good, don't step on any anthills.

Okay then. The next game is against EuroTrash. Should be a win. Go 'Nuts!

Comments: Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?