My roommate Barney and I were sprawled
out on my sectional couch the other day watching "When Good Pets Go
Bad" (God bless the Fox Network). Actually, I was the only one
sprawled out; Barney weighs 360 pounds and doesn't sprawl out so
much as camp out. As in the whole Winnebago.
Barney asked me what we do. What we
do? "Yeah, what do we do when we're not playing softball? Is this
it?" Good question. Well, we do quite a bit in the winter between
softball seasons. We watch a lot of interactive TV (we each pick a
contestant on "Greed" and yell out the answers for them), we drink
fine red wine, he works at an accounting firm, I manage a drugstore,
we regularly hit Thursday's Sports Bar and chug down beers provided by
our favorite waitresses, we diddle around on the internet, and
we...uh...hmm...well, I suppose that's about it. The old boy's got a
point. We don't do much.
This off-season hasn't been too bad, but
last year it was pure concentrated evil. I got hit with two bullets at
once as softball ended right around the time my marriage ended. Jesus,
just burn my house down while you're at it! Needless to say, I was
buying the red wine in cases.
We start playing ball every year in the
leftover snow patches of March and play constantly straight
through to the cold nights of October. When early November rolls
around and we finally play our last make-up game from a September
rain-out, the withdrawal is immediate. Thanksgiving. The bat bags
finally go from the car trunk to the closet. Christmas. My Retail Hell
is in full force. New Year's Eve. Snow, snow, snow, shit. The
first pick-up practice won't happen for at least another two months.
Yeah, I suppose our lives revolve around
the softball season. Coed, Men's, Fairfax County League, Church
League, Reston/Herndon League. Early Open Season, Late Open Season,
Fall Ball. We're either playing softball, talking about softball,
giving email-shit to each other about softball, or drinking after
softball. There's very little time for anything else when you play
five nights a week. Maybe a little sleep here and there, but, of
course there's the inevitable dreaming about softball (Hey, I hit 'em
out in my dreams at least).
But midway through January comes Magic
Mail Day: a random--yet much anticipated--day in which the mailman
finally finally finally brings my coed application for the Early Open
Season. And today was Magic Mail Day! Life begins! With a flurry of
emails, I spent the afternoon gathering my players and began counting
the days.
But, as fate seems to have several jokers
up its sleeve, that's not all I got on Magic Mail Day. Today I also
received my first bill from my divorce lawyer.....
The season starts in 62 days. It really
does. Trust me. I know.
