Hits and Runs! Tits and Buns!

I am bone tired.

Today was Day One of the Playing for Life Tournement here in NYC. Although for the Ballbreakers, it will be the final day as well. We played four games, and lost three of them. We started off the morning against the Stingrays from Atlanta and won, playing really well. And then we faced this team from Phoenix called The Heat.

Now, we're a D Division team. D Division is, y'know, recreational and such. The median age of our team is probable 45. We have some good players, but we really have no one who is spectacular. And we're in it for the fun. The Heat was also allegedly a D Division team. They creamed us. When they went up against the Stingrays, they forfeited when in the second inning the score was something like 22-zip. We lost to the Heat 21 to 7 or something. How tacky. I mean, they entered into the tournement in D Diivision because they're assured of getting a trophy. The Stingrays complained, and they might get bumped up into C Division. That would be more appropriate.

Sadly, the tournement was pretty poorly organized. There was no water available for the players, and all those teams from out of town could hardly be expected to bring coolers. And, although we were expecting to only play three games today, a fourth was added at the last minute, starting at 6:00 pm. And that game was a 'real' game, not just round robin to be seeded. And because we lost, we're out for the balance of the tournement. The other two games we played were great softball. Particularly the last game against the Jazz from Atlanta. They played great. We played great. They were ahead. We were ahead. They tied it up. They pulled ahead. They won the game. They seemed like a sweet bunch of guys.

Tragically, there was a game we watched between NYC's own Sharks and this team from San Diego. The team from San Diego--I didn't catch their name, so well just call them the Insufferables--delivered this constant, non-stop, unbelievably irritating series of sing-songy cheers. They never shut up.

Now, we cheer a lot. But mostly it's along the lines of "Yeah, Ben! You're a hitter! Base hit, Ben!" The Insufferables had lengthy doggerel for every situation. I've enjoyed the time I've spent in San Diego, but after that experience, I think it will take a lot to get me back there.

I had a couple of good hits today and got some more ribbies. And it was reported to me that a member of the other team, upon seeing me tear like the wind down the baseline, was heard to exclaim "Holy Fucking Shit! Look at him move!" Generally, if I get a clean hit, I get on base.

Tragically, when I was on second, I ran on a pop fly that was caught. And the ball made it to second base before I could get back there. Dang. I know better. It's a mistake I won't make again.

So even though we lost, and even though the Ballbreakers seems to be awash in drama lately (substance use and seroconversion mostly), I had so much fun today. it was great. What is it about getting together with a group of guys I love and giving it your all that just fills me with peace and contentment?

Since we're out of the tournement, this means I'm free to go to a dungeon party in Pennsylvania tomorrow at the home of two guys I know from Inferno. I'm going stag, which is frequently a bad strategy, given the fact that I find it impossible to suggest to someone that we do a scene. But, even if I go and just relax and have a good time with other men into S/M, some of whom I know and some I don't, it will be good and worthwhile.

And now, I'm gonna make myself a cup of tea and spend the evening moving as little as possible.

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