New Kickball Season
ASH Kickers have our first game of the fall season. Yes, the fall season, starting in early August. But it does in fact run into October, so we'll accept the description. But it is so hot, hot, hot today, reaching 99° in the afternoon, down to about 96° at game time.
We actually get our shirts on the first day this time, albeit only some of our shirts. A box lost in the mail somewhere, is what we're told. This season we're stylish black, as opposed to last season's abominable tan. I'd prefer a bright color, but I'll take black over tan.
Kevin arrives via bicycle. I'm so very glad he's joining us, as we needed male bodies for the field, and he is single, attractive, gainfully employed, and quite personable and charming, so thus a great catch for any girl with any sense. Kate shows up as well, returning to the team even though no longer working for ASH. It's good to see her and to catch up.
We actually win the game, although it's close. Again I play catcher and master of ceremonies. Seems like everyone on the Postmasters of the Universe gets up to bat (kick?) at least three times. And, despite league rules deeming such behavior officially douchebag, the Postmasters have guys who do indeed bunt.
We have only one minor dustup, where one of the newer ASH Kickers makes a minor mistake but gets very flustered and upset. I myself get a little worked and gruff around the same time, so I worry maybe I've said something loud or otherwise out of turn in anger. But I talk to her later and am cleared of any wrongdoing. Had nothing to do with me.
We head to Irish Times after the game, Elisa and Gill staying behind to ref the following game. Kate wants to travel by way of stopping by the MLK Library to drop off some books, declaring that it's only two blocks out of our way. She's nuts, of course, as it's many blocks out of our way. Kevin quite graciously offers to take the books back on his back and meet us at the bar. And in fact he still arrives before we do, snagging us a good table.
I generally have some trouble hearing conversation, what with the music being cranked so loud. It's mostly eighties hits, unfortunately, including an abominable Journey song, to which all the kids seeem to know the words. But I end up talking for a minute with an utter cupcake from the Parc Vista Ballers, who sit at the adjoining table. Her name is Ally, she's 25 and works for the State Department doing some sort of editing on their website. She and Kevin and I discuss digital cameras, as mine is getting old and won't take pictures now in dim light.
Kevin and I leave after about an hour or so, before the flip-cup games begin. We catch the 96 bus at Union Station, stashing Kevin's bike on the front rack of the bus. We worry while waiting for the bus that it's going to be complicated getting the bike secured, but it turns out to be pretty easy. Arriving at home Kevin turns to go down the alley to his back gate, and we talk a few minutes to Clarence's brother, who is just leaving, and is a little drunk.
5 Comments:
Bunting in kickball? That's pathetic. Reminds me of the time that I played in a one-day softball tournament put on by Gannett, and saw able-bodied men (and women) taking walk after walk, each person standing in the box with the bat on his or her shoulder. I hated that.
I don't want to win at all costs. There's no sport in a kickball bunt or a walk in softball. Swing away or don't play.
Take-your-base in SLOWPITCH?
Un-freakin-American.
Finally, Paul... we've found common ground.
Yeah, I hadn't really thought about that, people trying for walks in softball. And so I refer here back to a post from April, called Sports, where I mention how I will swing at pretty much everything.
Hey. I've moved.
go to new blog location here.
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