Sunday, April 28, 2002

I am being set up

I have seen this before. All the clues are there. It is the same pattern as before and yet I must play my part. Am I not a professional actor? Tonight my co-ed softball team just won our quarterfinals game and tomorrow we play in the semis. I did not expect our co-ed team to get this far. I expected my men's team to win the championship. I am getting a little excited. But I am being set up I tell you. Maybe we will win tomorrow in order for me to get really excited for a big letdown in the championship game.

Every time, I get so close and then a tsunami of a wave comes crashing down on my sandcastle. And in the ensuing ebb of that tidal wave I will find that my teeth have been knocked out and my wallet stolen. Hey did you see that? That tsunami just knocked out my teeth and mugged me! Anybody? Anybody see that?

One memory permanently branded on my conscious mind: Men on second and third. Two outs. Bottom half of the last inning. The score is 3-2. We are on the losing side. It is the division championship game. Awaiting the winners are trophies as big as giant sandcastles - at least three feet high. Sparkling, incandescent in the lights of the little league snack bar, having the chance to preview them before the game as I bought my customary pieces of gum for good luck. On the mound is the best pitcher in the division (my teammate and I were considered to be in the top three along with this guy who would later play for the Arizona Wildcats). I am thirteen years old. I come up to bat. One hit wins the game. Three pitches. Three swings. Three strikes. Three outs. Game over.

Oh I have many stories that I can pull out of my Santa bag. Don't be fooled by the merry old geezer and his velvet red bag. There be doom in there. Doom I say. Don't open it! I must, I must open it. I must see what's inside. Holy crap. It's my penis! Since I am reminiscing, let me tell you of one special Christmas when I was 10 years old and my brother is home from college. We did not have a tree with presents underneath being poor, but we always had stockings hung up. I am the first to climb out of bed, eager to see what little presents I have been left. I can see each stocking, each embroidered with our names, and each filled to overflowing with little trinkets and toys. My brother's, my sisters, and then there is mine - it would seem my stocking ate my presents, for there are none to be had. I go straight back to bed and have hated Christmas ever since.

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I am being set up. But I must play my part. I must hang up my stocking hoping that this time I just may get something. I just may win. For once in my life I just may win.