Tuesday, August 4, 2009

The Earl of Sandwich

Today will likely be a "12 Advil" day. It is the morning after an evening's excursion on the softball diamond - an exercise that I enjoy with all of my little charcoal briquette of a heart but that nonetheless wreaks a bit of havoc on my creaky knees and disagreeable low back. As much fun as today shall be, if tomorrow's weather is passable, then Thursday shall be even more fun. Proving the old adage that life is what happens when you are busy making plans, Mother Nature spent so much of May and June flipping the bird - both hands - to the fine folks who make the schedule for the Essex County (NJ) Lawyers League that my team thought we had wondered onto the set of a Chiffon margarine commercial. As a result of having had six of our first seven games postponed due to inclement weather, we now must play all of the heretofore lost games in August's dog days. For those scoring at home, Wednesday the 5th is counted among them.

Regardless of the weather, there are far worse ways to spend a weeknight than in the park playing softball. That is the case even when - due to the vagaries of life such as vacation schedules - our team plays without a couple of our best offensive players and loses a game that we otherwise should have won. Breaking one out of the Desperate Times handbook, my friend Diego - our captain - had to put me in the #4 spot in our batting order last night. I would daresay that last night was the first (and likely the last) time in my life that I have batted fourth in any organized game of base, soft or Wiffle ball. Hell, I only had warning track power in Strat-O-Matic.

Last night we lost and not surprisingly we did not get the type of offensive production one might normally associate with the clean-up spot from our #4 hitter. We are going be shorthanded again tomorrow night so while I hope we play it will take far more than mere hope to fashion a positive outcome. No matter. We will get together and let off a bit of steam at the work day's end and, if the very worst possible thing happens, we will lose the game. Regardless of the outcome, we will all have to get up and go to work Thursday morning.

Every summer, as we roll through August and into early September, which is when the season usually ends, I wonder whether my creaky joints, my work commitments and the ever-jaundiced eyes of my bride shall permit one more season. Every spring, as Diego gathers the troops for yet another campaign, the answer is "Yes".

At least thus far it has been yes. I am as bad at predicting the future as I am at.....well everything else that I badly do so I know not whether this time next year I shall be doing again what I am doing right now. I suppose that as long as my Advil supply holds out, I shall be just fine. And I know what folks say re: consuming Advil by the dozen, "those things will kill you." As the late, great Warren Zevon famously observed, "Life'll kill ya". Right up until the point in time where it does, enjoy every sandwich.

I will take mine with Chipotle mustard - on wheat.


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