CP, fearless owner of the Naked Coffee industry, has entrusted me with the task of forging a men's softball team from the raw stuff of our joe slingin', lunch servin', music playin' roster.
We are to play the Naked Coffee women, who have already proclaimed their softball superiority. Sherry, team manager, and Inga, the Orphan Queen, have pronounced their victory more than a month in advance, providing in five minutes enough bulletin board rhetoric to last the five weeks it will take to reach that austere, mid-January day in Curtis Park, when and where the battle shall commence.
I have eight down, and feelers out for 10-12 more possibilities. First practice will be next week...and I think it's gonna be a good one.
Chris may have laid down the challenge, but it's the ladies that struck first blood with their words. My efforts are burgeoned by their chastisements, the sharpness of their wit has carved into my ego, and uprooted an ancient fossil of times long gone by, when the State Hornet softball team came back from over 10 runs down in two innings to beat ASI. This was the last time I played softball, as Cody Kitaura and I got the rally caps around and the hits kept coming.
I was 80 pounds larger then. And we didn't have nearly the sense of purpose that our men will have going into this game.
It is going to be a bonding experience for us, a testing ground, and most importantly, a lot of fun.
And we are going to compete.
So will it be Sparky Anderson, Ozzie Guillen, Tony LaRussa who shall be my managerial mentor? Maybe none of the above.
I always liked Vince Lombardi, with maybe a twinge of Mike Singletary thrown in. But I won't be dropping my pants any time soon.
It is time to prepare.
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