Grrrrr...

This has me sort of steamed.

Here I am, feeling all swell about the leather community and all, and then Keckler sends me this.

Blammo. There I am, back in Junior High School, on the swim team. I made the cut! I'm on the swim team! But I practice in Lane Six. Me and a four other guys. We get "special attention" during practice from the assistant coach, Don.

Not too long into the season, we figure out what the deal is. If we're winning at a meet by a comfortable margin, we Lane Sixers get a place in the roster. Or, if we're hopelessly losing.

Uh huh.

And in close meets, we get jobs like holding the false start line that gets dropped when the refs decide that one of the... y'know... swimmers who are competing go ahead of the whistle.

And as things progress, we're asked to pick up the towels after practice.

Yeah, we made the team, but we're in Lane Six.

Fast forward twenty years or so. There I am at Ty's on Christopher Street, standing in the corner by the bathroom. I notice a sign on the bulletin board. "Softball Team forming here at Ty's! No experience necessary! We're all about having fun."

I love baseball. I've never played. I like to have fun. The sign said to ask the bartender. I asked the bartender. The rest, as they say, is history.

I became a member of Ty's Ballbreakers. Met a bunch of great guys. Had some wonderful times. Over time I got better, but it didn't matter. I got to play every game. It was all about having a good time, and we had a blast. Softball has been one of the best experiences of my life. I've long forgotten just about everything about the swim team.

Y'know, if you want to hold a small scale dungeon get together for folks you like and try to get some hot boys you'd want to play with to come, that's fine. That's totally cool.

But do me a favor. Don't present it as "Just for the Real, Hardcore, Serious Players in the world." Fuck that.

Number One. I can think of lots of "Real, Hardcore, Serious Players" who apparently didn't make the cut. So let's be clear that it seems to be all about one person's personal preferences. His friends, in other words. Again, nothing wrong with that. Given the resources, I wouldn't mind doing that. But don't present it as an elite event for "Real, Harcore, Serious Players." Cuz it's not. Chump.

Number Two. Who defines what "Hardcore" is? Why, it seems the way that this guy likes to play is "Hardcore." What an amazing coincidence!

I'm sorry. That's stupid. Or naive.

More hardcore than Thou, eh?

Puh-leeze.

Cool. Have your little hardcore event for all your hand-picked hardcore friends and and sit around patting each other on the back--or those backs that haven't been Opened Up (Gasp! Oh My Gosh! That's sooooo hardcore!!!)--about how hardcore you all are.

But don't kid yourself. You may have bolstered your fragile ego, but you didn't have whatcha might call fun.

Softball season starts in April. Come on out and watch the Ballbreakers play a game. Maybe we'll win. Maybe we'll loose. We'll have fun.

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