Sometimes you have just one of those nights where the bizarre and the strange meet. Something happens, and then everything is a little off kilter the rest of the night. Strange and wonderful things can happen, or they can go into the toilet. You often don't know until it is all over.
Tuesday started out normal enough. A routine win in my morning Senior game, in all ways except that it had some import in the Creaker standings, where we were tied for first with the other team.
Then I came home and I got a call for a phone interview - right then. Usually you get some warning. I asked that she call back, and this saved the day for me. I was able to do a little preparation. It went well but the day was off schedule from then on.
I work part time as a process server to get a few bucks to support my softball habit. You know, the guy who shows up at the door of some scofflaw, and hands them papers, and gets to say "You've been served." It's just like in the movies, but not.
I had some new serves in the direction of the Tuesday night's game, which was in Pleasanton, in the next town Livermore. I had decided that I might have time to get them served on the way, or after the game. So I printed them out, and planned a route on the computer, and put the addresses in my phone's navigator.
Of course by the time I did all this I was rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off. I then grabbed up my computer and the score book, and took out a smoke and ran out to the car, which was parked in the garage. I carefully checked all the doors and locked the door from the house to the garage manually. And then as soon as I heard the door shut, I realized - I had left my man-purse in the house. It had in it - keys to the house (I had the car keys in my pocket), wallet, phone, money clip (with credit cards), cigarettes, glasses (in case I had trouble with my contacts). In other words, everything I needed to function in society.
The amazing part is that I still had everything I needed to play the game, since as a true softball slut, my gear lives in the car at all times. I was in uniform and I had the scorebook - bonus. Luckily I had plenty of gas, or I couldn't have gone...imagine the humiliation of having to wait around for hours for my roommate to get home with nothing to entertain me but a PC with a dying battery, knowing I am missing the game.
There was no choice but to go.
The game was against a relatively new arch-rival, the Big Kahunas. We don't like them. They don't like us. You know how sometimes there is just a player on the opposition that you just don't like? Well they had two, or more. Their onfield antics furthered their reputation as complete a-holes too, the other teams don't like them either. Arguing, complaining about our hitters going up the middle, threatening fighting at the slightest provocation, just jerks. We were really looking forward to beating them, we owed them from a couple of close losses. I looked it up - twice last fall by one run. Last Spring 17-2. The playoffs a couple years ago by one run. I'm not bitter (much); just really want to put them in their place.
First thing when I got to the parking lot, of course, I borrowed twenty bucks from a teammate so I could run to 7-11 to get smokes. You never know when you are going to need a rally smoke, no matter how un-PC it is, and I wasn't about to get caught without smokes.
Finally we get to the field and our guys arrive and the Kahunas have like 5 or 6 players. There don't seem to be any others coming, either, although I overheard one of them say they were expecting 8, the minimum number to not forfeit. We were prepared to play them with eight and were looking forward to make them run all over the field chasing our bombs and smashes. So I didn't even mind when we saw the coach running from field to field trying to get the last players they needed in order to play, even if they were illegal. But they just couldn't come up with an 8th guy. Derek from my team wanted to give them someone from our team just so we could play and beat them. While I appreciated the sentiment, there could be nothing worse than rejecting a free win, and then getting somehow beaten by them with the help of one of our own. And who is the lucky sap who has to play with them? So in a half-hearted voice I said to the ump, "that would be illegal anyway right?" to which he agreed.
So we took the forfeit. A win is a win. We then had the field for batting practice, and then after I took some swings I remembered I could be taking care of the serves, since I was free early. I told my teammates I would meet them at the bar we go to, to celebrate the win. Sir Guy said he would call me to confirm that they were going, and I cheerily replied, "uh, no need, no phone."
Of course no phone, no addresses in the navigator. But I had my computer. All I had to do was go to a Starbucks to get connected, and figure out where to go. I decided to drive to Livermore first, to save on my laptop battery, which is in need of replacing, and only gets about twenty minutes without a plugin.
Now you can go anywhere and just look for Starbucks and it magically appears. I mean you could be in Shandong province in China, or the northern Sahara or Timbuktu - there is a Starbucks. But I get to Livermore and go to every shopping mall on the way into downtown - do I see the green awning? nooooooooo. I was driven to desperation, doing what no self-respecting man does - I asked someone at a gas station. He looked at me funny, as though I were from another planet, but told me anyway. How convenient, it was in the neighborhood of the serves.
The first was uneventful. The lady was expecting it, said she had been warned. But I get to the second address (and it wasn't easily marked either), and go up to the front door. There is a screen door, but the main door is open and I can hear a TV on. Good signs, someone is home! I ring. No answer. Ring. No answer. RING.
Now I realize that I can see into the hallway from the door, and beyond that the master bedroom. I see a whale of a man stirring in the bed. He seems like he is getting up. But then rolls over. Let me tell you, the last thing I wanted to do was peer into a door and see a guy scratching himself in his underwear. RING. RING. Finally he rolls over again, and stumbles out to the door. "Are you ___ ___ ___?" I ask. "Yes." YOU'VE BEEN SERVED. He wanted to know what it is about. Well, I wasn't about to go over the details with a guy standing there in his shorts. "It's a legal case, call your lawyer," I yelled, practically over my shoulder as I sped away. SUCCESS!
Now I can finally go get my post-forfeit beer. I'm feeling pretty good. I get to the bar and are my teammates waiting there with my beer poured ready for quaffing? NO, of course not. Who knows if they are going to show up? And it is freezing. I wait a few minutes, and decide, with my remaining $8 I have enough to go buy a burger at In N Out across the street. The drive through line is crowded at this time of night. So I give up the Giants game on the car radio and go inside. When I am waiting for my food, I turn and standing there is a woman I co-managed my daughter's Bobby Sox team with a million years ago. I knew her from Oakland. What a huge coincidence, she is miles from home, and I haven't seen her for about ten years, but nothing takes me by surprise tonight. We updated each other on our kids and their adventures. Now my kids have not been a picnic to raise. But when she told me how her kid had run off with a guy she didn't like, and made her a grandma without the sanction of holy matrimony, and then the cute couple had stolen first her car, and then her dead husband's car, well I just had to thank my lucky stars. Always look on the bright side of life, as Monty Python sang.
I turn again and now I see there are two guys I have played with and against in line to get a burger. The strange coincidences just kept coming. I didn't know they knew each other, and it seems they have been best friends since high school in San Leandro. I sat with them and ate my burger.
At that point, I should have stopped tempting fate, and gone home but I really wanted that beer now, so I went back across the street and lo and behold my teammates were there. I had that beer finally. You know I am not very smart, and I just had to tempt fate one more time after knocking one back and get on the freeway with no money, no ID, no driver's license...but miraculously nothing bizarre was added to the night's events.
Just another day on the fields.
Milestone:
Derek 50 g (#22) (you get a game credit for showing up at a forfeit)
Tuesday started out normal enough. A routine win in my morning Senior game, in all ways except that it had some import in the Creaker standings, where we were tied for first with the other team.
Then I came home and I got a call for a phone interview - right then. Usually you get some warning. I asked that she call back, and this saved the day for me. I was able to do a little preparation. It went well but the day was off schedule from then on.
I work part time as a process server to get a few bucks to support my softball habit. You know, the guy who shows up at the door of some scofflaw, and hands them papers, and gets to say "You've been served." It's just like in the movies, but not.
I had some new serves in the direction of the Tuesday night's game, which was in Pleasanton, in the next town Livermore. I had decided that I might have time to get them served on the way, or after the game. So I printed them out, and planned a route on the computer, and put the addresses in my phone's navigator.
Of course by the time I did all this I was rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off. I then grabbed up my computer and the score book, and took out a smoke and ran out to the car, which was parked in the garage. I carefully checked all the doors and locked the door from the house to the garage manually. And then as soon as I heard the door shut, I realized - I had left my man-purse in the house. It had in it - keys to the house (I had the car keys in my pocket), wallet, phone, money clip (with credit cards), cigarettes, glasses (in case I had trouble with my contacts). In other words, everything I needed to function in society.
The amazing part is that I still had everything I needed to play the game, since as a true softball slut, my gear lives in the car at all times. I was in uniform and I had the scorebook - bonus. Luckily I had plenty of gas, or I couldn't have gone...imagine the humiliation of having to wait around for hours for my roommate to get home with nothing to entertain me but a PC with a dying battery, knowing I am missing the game.
There was no choice but to go.
The game was against a relatively new arch-rival, the Big Kahunas. We don't like them. They don't like us. You know how sometimes there is just a player on the opposition that you just don't like? Well they had two, or more. Their onfield antics furthered their reputation as complete a-holes too, the other teams don't like them either. Arguing, complaining about our hitters going up the middle, threatening fighting at the slightest provocation, just jerks. We were really looking forward to beating them, we owed them from a couple of close losses. I looked it up - twice last fall by one run. Last Spring 17-2. The playoffs a couple years ago by one run. I'm not bitter (much); just really want to put them in their place.
First thing when I got to the parking lot, of course, I borrowed twenty bucks from a teammate so I could run to 7-11 to get smokes. You never know when you are going to need a rally smoke, no matter how un-PC it is, and I wasn't about to get caught without smokes.
Finally we get to the field and our guys arrive and the Kahunas have like 5 or 6 players. There don't seem to be any others coming, either, although I overheard one of them say they were expecting 8, the minimum number to not forfeit. We were prepared to play them with eight and were looking forward to make them run all over the field chasing our bombs and smashes. So I didn't even mind when we saw the coach running from field to field trying to get the last players they needed in order to play, even if they were illegal. But they just couldn't come up with an 8th guy. Derek from my team wanted to give them someone from our team just so we could play and beat them. While I appreciated the sentiment, there could be nothing worse than rejecting a free win, and then getting somehow beaten by them with the help of one of our own. And who is the lucky sap who has to play with them? So in a half-hearted voice I said to the ump, "that would be illegal anyway right?" to which he agreed.
So we took the forfeit. A win is a win. We then had the field for batting practice, and then after I took some swings I remembered I could be taking care of the serves, since I was free early. I told my teammates I would meet them at the bar we go to, to celebrate the win. Sir Guy said he would call me to confirm that they were going, and I cheerily replied, "uh, no need, no phone."
Of course no phone, no addresses in the navigator. But I had my computer. All I had to do was go to a Starbucks to get connected, and figure out where to go. I decided to drive to Livermore first, to save on my laptop battery, which is in need of replacing, and only gets about twenty minutes without a plugin.
Now you can go anywhere and just look for Starbucks and it magically appears. I mean you could be in Shandong province in China, or the northern Sahara or Timbuktu - there is a Starbucks. But I get to Livermore and go to every shopping mall on the way into downtown - do I see the green awning? nooooooooo. I was driven to desperation, doing what no self-respecting man does - I asked someone at a gas station. He looked at me funny, as though I were from another planet, but told me anyway. How convenient, it was in the neighborhood of the serves.
The first was uneventful. The lady was expecting it, said she had been warned. But I get to the second address (and it wasn't easily marked either), and go up to the front door. There is a screen door, but the main door is open and I can hear a TV on. Good signs, someone is home! I ring. No answer. Ring. No answer. RING.
Now I realize that I can see into the hallway from the door, and beyond that the master bedroom. I see a whale of a man stirring in the bed. He seems like he is getting up. But then rolls over. Let me tell you, the last thing I wanted to do was peer into a door and see a guy scratching himself in his underwear. RING. RING. Finally he rolls over again, and stumbles out to the door. "Are you ___ ___ ___?" I ask. "Yes." YOU'VE BEEN SERVED. He wanted to know what it is about. Well, I wasn't about to go over the details with a guy standing there in his shorts. "It's a legal case, call your lawyer," I yelled, practically over my shoulder as I sped away. SUCCESS!
Now I can finally go get my post-forfeit beer. I'm feeling pretty good. I get to the bar and are my teammates waiting there with my beer poured ready for quaffing? NO, of course not. Who knows if they are going to show up? And it is freezing. I wait a few minutes, and decide, with my remaining $8 I have enough to go buy a burger at In N Out across the street. The drive through line is crowded at this time of night. So I give up the Giants game on the car radio and go inside. When I am waiting for my food, I turn and standing there is a woman I co-managed my daughter's Bobby Sox team with a million years ago. I knew her from Oakland. What a huge coincidence, she is miles from home, and I haven't seen her for about ten years, but nothing takes me by surprise tonight. We updated each other on our kids and their adventures. Now my kids have not been a picnic to raise. But when she told me how her kid had run off with a guy she didn't like, and made her a grandma without the sanction of holy matrimony, and then the cute couple had stolen first her car, and then her dead husband's car, well I just had to thank my lucky stars. Always look on the bright side of life, as Monty Python sang.
I turn again and now I see there are two guys I have played with and against in line to get a burger. The strange coincidences just kept coming. I didn't know they knew each other, and it seems they have been best friends since high school in San Leandro. I sat with them and ate my burger.
At that point, I should have stopped tempting fate, and gone home but I really wanted that beer now, so I went back across the street and lo and behold my teammates were there. I had that beer finally. You know I am not very smart, and I just had to tempt fate one more time after knocking one back and get on the freeway with no money, no ID, no driver's license...but miraculously nothing bizarre was added to the night's events.
Just another day on the fields.
Milestone:
Derek 50 g (#22) (you get a game credit for showing up at a forfeit)
Very funny post. Better bag the man purse, chicks don't like men with man-purses.
ReplyDeleteI respond to several blogs and believe that they're out there for comments and responses, plus it's nice for the blogger to know someone actually reads it. A response practically assures that, though admittedly, not all the time. Well, I was finally bored enough (heehee?) to read this and sounds harrowingly fun. Would have been interesting to see how a real game would have turned out with all that swirling in your mind. I do suspect you would have had no trouble focusing.....on softball, that is.
ReplyDelete