Sunday, July 19, 2009
Rookies versus Saints: Parking Ramp Softball
Yesterday morning, before the cock crowed, and before my morning wood had time to fall…I was already up, showered, slathered up in Icy Hot, and on a train heading down to Hudson Park to play some gay softball.
I followed the directions from the softball league’s website, which led me first to the Spring Street stop off of the C/E. Let me tell you, the far western edge of Manhattan, at the northern border of the West Village and the Southern limit of Chelsea on a Saturday morning is as dead as Walter Kronkite. God rest his soul.
Walking a block off the West Side highway and it being quiet enough to hear the voices in my head scream at one another was damned spooky.
Now, I have to begin this by saying thank you to Rookie Joe who had the foresight (I almost typed foreskin) to warn the Nookies on our team (aka me and Vinnie)…that the fields we would be playing on this week…were on the piers…meaning actually sitting above the river…and indoors.
Sure enough, as I turned down Houston, I caught sight of what looked like a giant parking garage that had Pier 40 emblazoned across the top. I asked the bored looking female guard in the security station where I might find a gaggle of softball players, and you could see the visible strain and summoning of energy it took for her to thumb over her shoulder deeper into the parking garage.
I thought she might be high, which, considering she was on security detail, would have been very irresponsible of her.
But, sure enough, when I looked down what I had thought was a parking ramp but turned out to be a broad pedestrian tunnel, I saw that the parking ramp was hollow in the middle and contained a massive chemical green Astroturf multi-use field. One of those rubberized numbers, with the fake grass growing up out of the Dupont dirt that had all kinds of lines crisscrossing it so that it could be any number of sporting surfaces. Like me, it was very very versatile.
Only a tiny bit tardy, I showed up (before the coach I might add), and immediately fell in love with Rynnie…Scott’s adorable niece visiting her uncle. Rynnie was a softball player, a cutie patootie, a fierce Southern Baptist that had a wicked giggle and loved her big old gay uncle. How could one not fall in love with her instantly?
Immediately, folks asked me where oh where was Vinnie. To which I said…am I my neighbors keeper?
The bitches said yes.
It was then that I checked my phone and discovered that Vinnie hadn’t woken up until around 8:30 am (the games started at 9)…he said something about an unfortunate wax accident involving the dining room table, some candles, and lots and lots of Grey Goose.
Vinnie should have brought the candles to light a fire under our asses cuz we could not wake up for that first game.
We were playing the Saints, and, bless their hearts, they are the last place team in our division. They have solid fundamentals, but they just don’t have much power. Well…Saturday morning they were the motherfucking Electric Company and shocked our asses by pulling out a win in the first game.
Alas, they had no idea that once the sun truly passed over the Prime Meridian that all their earlier victories would come to naught. Once the sunlight cleared the horizon…the Rookies were on that ball like Reggie on…well…balls.
First of all, Noah had returned from exile in New Jacked Up Unemployment Rate City aka Detroit. And you know Miss Noah may wear a corset, but instead of the vapors she channels her antebellum feminine oppression into her bat. Combining that with Tom Ward, who was once again acting like Derek Jeter was a bitch compared to his batting, and with some 50 and loving it acrobatics by Joe…we were feisty and swinging our low hangers way out into the field.
In one inning we scored 10 runs. I almost peed on myself with joy. As a matter of fact, I did. But I blamed it on Noah’s dog Ludo. Them’s the breaks when one person can talk and the other one can only bark and look guilty.
In the end, we had a blast. Rookie-in-Absentia Eddie Buggie was with us, cheering us on, and base coaching. And everyone acquitted himself mighty well. Great games Rookies. Heyyyyyyyyyyyy.