That's a mighty number. A landslide in any election. A healthy majority, silent or not. A strong correlative to whatever "1" is. If a given person is 63.6% an asshole, most people would say, with certainty, "Why--ye-es, he's an asshole."
.636 is also Lex's batting average right now. To quote Bull Durham, "that's a career."
Right or wrong, keeping track of stats this year was my idea. It was my wife's idea that we go a step further and play Rotisserie softball amongst ourselves using our own stats - I'm still not sure if she was making fun of me, or us. Either way, bitch, my number one draft choice is Lex. You guys can have your Dannys, your Justins, your Jons, your Richies.. I'll take .636 any day. For god's sake, the man's nickname is "Puma," and it's an unironic one - he is a superb outfielder, probably the best we have along with Justin.
"The Puma." That's a career right there.
Moving on, I have to say, I prefer playing ball when Hans is there. His presence fills me with confidence. He is a man and I am not. I once read somewhere that it takes a boy to admit he is not a man. I am that boy. In a drunken stupor, I once attacked Hans in a bar. He had me in the yoke, thrashing about and begging for mercy within a minute. At the moment I attacked him, however, I had only love in my heart for him. That he remains my friend to this day amazes me. Another time, I punched him in the testicles while he was choking on something. He was looking to me for a slap or two on the back to help dislodge it, but instead he got a solid uppercut to the gonads. I was sure I'd killed him, but I couldn't stop laughing.
Hans still talks to me. Think of that when you're annoyed at a friend for not calling you back quickly enough, or for borrowing your mower and not bringing it back.
I cannot wait for Baby Bungle to grow up so I can tell her about punching her dad in the balls.
I am also dumbstruck by Hans's humble willingness to bat last, even though it obviously hurts his team. Moreover, his Billy Martin-esque micro-managing (shifting one defensive position every three innings - didn't Billy do something like that with Pagliarulo and Meacham back in '85?) inspires me to play harder. I run to first when Hans is my manager. He is obviously thinking several innings ahead at all times. D. Lee's teams usually have no chance, despite his stable of pro athletes. Hans is the straw that stirs my drink.
On to the game, a crisp early-May affair with no Hans anywhere... Falcon vs the Snowman. I am not running anything out, I am not fielding well (though the shouts of 'hit it to Ambrose' have died down a bit), I am sad and looking for leadership. In steps the Puma. Despite leading Christendom in batting average, he takes the time to post a lineup, build a defense, step up like a goddam man.
Snowman got the early lead, with a double by the Australian known as Wazza (Aussies tend to use 'zz' anytime they encounter a person with a double-R in their name. Hence, Jerry becomes Jezzy, Harry becomes Hazza, and Warren becomes Wazza) that brought in a run in the second. The Falcom stormed back, plating four with a string of singles in the next inning.
Snowman brought it to 4-3 in their half of the inning.When the score got to six-all, there was talk of pressing the reset button. (which I intially typed as "rest button," which might be closer to the truth). Cooler heads prevailed, and in the end, the reset came at 8:20pm, and all that was reset was the called-HR capability.
At around 8:45, Snowman erupted with five runs in what was (sort of) the bottom of the ninth. The Falcon had no response. Snowman 12, Falcon, 8.
The World Cup qualifying match (I could be wrong about that) got to begin a couple of minutes early.
Game ball to Wazza, for a fine 5 for 8, 3 RBI performance and just a loose understanding of the rules.
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