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penfield"I'm writing a book. I've got the page numbers done."
- Stephen Wright
Why is it that one's "digits" is slang for their phone number, but no one ever refers to one's "integers" or "numerals"? I've tried, believe me. It just won't catch on.
Under better circumstances, today's entry would be a postmortem analysis of my weekly softball game. However, outside forces have -- once again -- conspired to spoil my fun. This time it was the congressional farm bill, the disposition of which apparently required the softball team-sized army of legislative assistants who were to be our opponents.
It's too bad, too, because not only was it a perfect day, and not only was I extra geeked-up to play after last week's debacle, but as it happens I had chosen the exact right time to put my Powerade in the office freezer so that it was partially frozen enough to stay cold and yet still be drinkable.
Plus, I'll be out of town next week so I'll miss that game, too. I am concerned that by the time I'm able to play again, either the team will dissolve or I will be too aged and infirm to bend over for ground balls.
We will supposedly be getting a new set of uniforms (read: T-shirts) this year, once the money comes in from our sponsor, a local restaurant/tavern. (I told my skipper that I would be willing to subsidize the team's uniforms if they agreed to re-christen the team "The Fightin' Pants," a suggestion recieved with concerned silence.)
For the past few years I've been denied my preferred number, 11, because a long-tenured team veteran had held that number for several years. I don't think that she's with the team anymore, so I am hopeful that I can inherit it.
Eleven is my favorite number for several reasons:
- it's a prime number, which is always nice;
- it signifies my birth month, November;
- always-enjoyable reference to This is Spinal Tap;
- one plus one adds up to two, which is I think is kind of romantic, and reminds me of that Three Dog Night song "One," which I realize has nothing to do with the number 11 but is pretty catchy nonetheless; and
- asthetically, I appreciate symmetry, and also the vertical lines are flattering to a guy who otherwise looks slightly roundish.
My subsequent choices would probably be 31 (my father's old football uniform number), 5 (J.'s lucky number), 22 (my birthday and also the uniform number of Craig Worthington, my favorite Rochester Red Wing player), 95 (my high school graduation year), 10 (because it's close to 11, it was Steve Finley's number as a Rochester Red Wing and it has a cool binary look to it) or 12 (because it's one more than 11 and because "one-two" reminds me of that cool lead-in to the breakdown in the Stretch Kirby song "Why Did You Do It?")
Obviously I could probably construct a favorable rationale for any number they give me and will be happy with whatever I get (except for #1, which makes me look extra fat, and #2, which reminds me of a bowel movement). I also think it's time for guys to stop choosing the number 69. (Yeah, we get it, very funny, real original. Go back to sixth grade.)
More than in any other game, numbers in baseball/softball are important. They rule the game and mark its history. I would love to be talking about game-related numbers -- runs and hits and injuries. But since we can't seem to get a goddamn game together, this is what I have to work with.
- Stephen Wright
Why is it that one's "digits" is slang for their phone number, but no one ever refers to one's "integers" or "numerals"? I've tried, believe me. It just won't catch on.
Under better circumstances, today's entry would be a postmortem analysis of my weekly softball game. However, outside forces have -- once again -- conspired to spoil my fun. This time it was the congressional farm bill, the disposition of which apparently required the softball team-sized army of legislative assistants who were to be our opponents.
It's too bad, too, because not only was it a perfect day, and not only was I extra geeked-up to play after last week's debacle, but as it happens I had chosen the exact right time to put my Powerade in the office freezer so that it was partially frozen enough to stay cold and yet still be drinkable.
Plus, I'll be out of town next week so I'll miss that game, too. I am concerned that by the time I'm able to play again, either the team will dissolve or I will be too aged and infirm to bend over for ground balls.
We will supposedly be getting a new set of uniforms (read: T-shirts) this year, once the money comes in from our sponsor, a local restaurant/tavern. (I told my skipper that I would be willing to subsidize the team's uniforms if they agreed to re-christen the team "The Fightin' Pants," a suggestion recieved with concerned silence.)
For the past few years I've been denied my preferred number, 11, because a long-tenured team veteran had held that number for several years. I don't think that she's with the team anymore, so I am hopeful that I can inherit it.
Eleven is my favorite number for several reasons:
- it's a prime number, which is always nice;
- it signifies my birth month, November;
- always-enjoyable reference to This is Spinal Tap;
- one plus one adds up to two, which is I think is kind of romantic, and reminds me of that Three Dog Night song "One," which I realize has nothing to do with the number 11 but is pretty catchy nonetheless; and
- asthetically, I appreciate symmetry, and also the vertical lines are flattering to a guy who otherwise looks slightly roundish.
My subsequent choices would probably be 31 (my father's old football uniform number), 5 (J.'s lucky number), 22 (my birthday and also the uniform number of Craig Worthington, my favorite Rochester Red Wing player), 95 (my high school graduation year), 10 (because it's close to 11, it was Steve Finley's number as a Rochester Red Wing and it has a cool binary look to it) or 12 (because it's one more than 11 and because "one-two" reminds me of that cool lead-in to the breakdown in the Stretch Kirby song "Why Did You Do It?")
Obviously I could probably construct a favorable rationale for any number they give me and will be happy with whatever I get (except for #1, which makes me look extra fat, and #2, which reminds me of a bowel movement). I also think it's time for guys to stop choosing the number 69. (Yeah, we get it, very funny, real original. Go back to sixth grade.)
More than in any other game, numbers in baseball/softball are important. They rule the game and mark its history. I would love to be talking about game-related numbers -- runs and hits and injuries. But since we can't seem to get a goddamn game together, this is what I have to work with.
no subject
Date: 2008-05-17 02:52 am (UTC)-GDM
no subject
Date: 2008-05-17 03:43 am (UTC)Of course, I might just be fat. Deal with it, stringbean.