Ghost Man on Third - Spring Edition - On First Base

You Who Are

Who's throwing the ball? This guy!

As I was driving home from work today, I was surfing Sirius, my ears seeking something to make the traffic in Somerville more tolerable. At a traffic light, I finally found a song I wanted to hear, "Lola" by the Kinks. While I was singing "L-O-L-A" along with Ray Davies, I thought it was a very serendipitous song to hear today. Not only did it bring back many personal memories for me (in college I had a girlfriend who like me often worked late into the night. One of our rituals was to go to an all night pancake place at 2am to eat and talk and do all that shit couples do. It seemed that whenever we drove to or from the pancake place, the classic rock station would be playing Lola. Like every fucking time.) but it also reflected how much identity politics have come to the forefront and been mainstreamed in our culture. (For those of you unfamiliar with the song it's the tale of a naive young man who falls in love with either a transvestite or transgendered person). 

Everybody Dance Now!

I wrestle with the question of "Who am I?" or "What the hell am I doing?" every time I write the newsletter. In theory this is a kickball newsletter, but if I were to write solely about kickball, it would get old really quickly. There are only so many ball jokes and innuendos you can make before your brain turns into a delicious goo, waiting for an extra from The Walking Dead to feast upon. (Mmmm. Delicious Goo.) So I struggle to find the right balance between superfluous kickball news, and the ever churning tides of events that exist outside our artificial kickball universe. 

The idea of identity has been weighing on my mind recently for a number of reasons. First off, whenever anyone asks me about my hobbies, I always hesitate when I say "I play kickball." Since everyone judges everyone and everyone wants people to take them seriously on some level (READ THIS NEWSLETTER. PLEASE) identifying yourself as an adult who plays a kids game for fun can cause people to be a bit defensive. This is especially true if you hurt yourself while playing kickball. I can see it, you go into work with a broken wrist because you collided with your teammate when trying to catch a kickball (this is why you always communicate on the kickball field. Maybe I should hire J. Walter Weatherman to teach this lesson to everyone). When telling the story of how you did it, instead of saying "I was playing kickball" you make up some grand story about how you fell out of a burning building rescuing two cats, a 97 year old woman, and a little girl holding an ice cream cone. 

My Socks Rocks

The idea of identity has also been rattling around my head in the wake of the Marathon bombings. Just like after 9/11 I've been seeing lots of people wearing American flag themed clothing or Boston Strong clothing to show their support. While as honest most of these shows of support are, if you really wanted to send a message to the terrorists, you'd go vote today in the special election. Anyone can wear a flag or ribbon. Those are superficial signs of support. But at the core of our identity as an American should be our participation in the democratic process. Voting is the most sacred act we have as citizens of a free society, and to not vote is more damaging to our identity than anything a bomb can do. Recently the Senate failed to pass universal background checks on gun purchases that 80% of the country agreed on. 80%! Yet that overwhelming will of the people was thwarted by an extremely small (yet highly vocal and organized) minority lead by the NRA. The NRA and groups like it are able to act without consequence because they know that only small minorities of people vote (especially in off year and special elections). So despite only being a few million members, they can hold great sway over large swaths of public policy. So while it is all well and good to wrap yourself in the flag, don't wrap yourself too tightly that you forget to vote.

Do the Rockettes play kickball?

Beyond just kickball and country, the idea of the power and importance of identity and understanding who we are as a community, nation and individual struck today with the "coming out" of a current male professional athlete. The strides that the LGBT community has made over the years has been staggering. Every opportunity where people realize that sexual orientation and gender identification do not matter in terms of what a person is able to do and contribute to society is a victory of tolerance over intolerance. So Jason Collins' bold statement today is just another milemarker in the march to equality where people are treated and judged not based on outdated prejudices, but on merit, or as Dr. King said, "not the color of one's skin, but the contents of his heart." 

I know I've strayed far afield from the artifical kickball universe. But that is who I am as a writer, and this newsletter is as a league. A strong community, whether it be a kickball league or country, is a community where everyone is allowed to be who they are, and not who others want them to be. Be who you are, because that is all that you can be. 

So You Wanna Know a Kickball Star?

DIDI MAO!

In an effort to further expand upon this idea of who you are, I'm introducing a new feature this week called "So You Wanna Know a Kickball Star?" Over the rest of the season I'll be taking one player from each team and doing a brief biography so that people can get to know you, say hi, and make funny comments to get you to laugh while you are at bat so you end up popping the ball up right to the pitcher for an easy out. STRATEGERY!

This week, I want to introduce you to Vivek from Booze on First. Vivek's story begins in the Little India neighborhood of New York City on Manhattan's Lower East Side. Originally this was Little Italy, but the Italians got lazy and outsourced the work to India. His father owned a few fruit stands, and every day the local Don would walk by. He'd spy the young Vivek, and with a wink, nod and mumble, would point to a couple of oranges. Eager to please the great man, Vivek would put the oranges in a brown paper bag, with a smile. The Don would give Vivek a shiny quarter, which Vivek dutifully put into his piggy bank shaped like Lady Gaga. 

"Boo...Radley"

Then one day, as Vivek was reaching for an orange, he heard gunshots. BANG. BANG. BANG. He froze. His father ducked behind a barrel of moonshine that had just come in from Canada, and the old Don staggered and fell to the ground. The old Don's son, who had been his driver tried to get out his gun and cried. "PAPA, PAPA, PAPA." Vivek, being an entrenprenur, quickly snapped a photo of the grisly scene with his cell phone camera and sold it to TMZ for a cool $5000. 

Being a frugal young man, Vivek saved his money, both his tips from the orange stand, the money from TMZ, the profits from the "squirrel in the pants for purposes of gambling" ring he'd been running from the back of a local Arbys, he moved to Las Vegas. Coincidently, he ran into the son of the old Don that had been shot at the fruit stand many years back. The son was now running a Casino on the Strip. After reuniting they became constant drinking and whoring buddies, always surrounded by leggy women, leggier men, and mimes, because well, "CLOWNS FREAKED THEM THE FUCK OUT." This was an idyllic life, until one day his friend went on a family fishing trip and never returned. Vivek,  by this time was drugged out, whored out, bloated and tired, so he gave up the glitz and glamour of Vegas and got a job as a bank teller in Somerville. 

Kicking the ball or Use Your Illusion 3 Cover?

During one shift at the bank, two young men entered, one of them looking eerily familiar to his old friend from New York and Vegas. As he was about to speak to his friend's doppleganger, the other young man pulled a gun and said "give me all the money." They took the bank hostage, and on a brutally warm July day a seige took place in the middle of Davis Square. Vivek doesn't remember much from that day, due to be hungover and having stayed up all night running a Russian Roulette gambling ring out the back of the local combination John Deere and Hunter Fan store. At one point to pass the time, the hostages started discussing books. The pregnant hostage (there's always a pregnant hostage) was reading "To Kill a Mockingbird." One of the robbers asked who her favorite character was and the woman replied "Atticus." Well, the rest of the hostages agreed and for some reason they all started chanting "ATTICUS. ATTICUS. ATTICUS." Vivek, who had fallen asleep woke up, and said "Boo." Thinking that he was booing the chanting, rather than indicating his favorite character was Boo Radley, the first bank robber shot at Vivek. The bullet missed, and killed the bank manager who was the only person who could open the safe. Bank robber one screamed "NOW HOW CAN I AFFORD THE SEX CHANGE OPERATION FOR MY WIFE?" pointing wildly at his fellow bank robber. Despondant, robber 1 was about to shoot himself. Vivek yelled "Didi Mao!" at which point the cops rushed the bank and ended the siege peacefully.

Vivek looking for a non-violent or Academy Award nominated life arc, decided to join a kickball league, where he now plays on Booze on First and runs a kickball bookie shop out of the back of Shopper's Cafe. 

Song or Video of the Week that Amuses Me (And Probably Only Me). 

Naturally. 

Miscellany

"How many innings should Tomorrow pitch?"

• Please visit here for tonight's schedule. Remember we are playing WEEK 4's schedule and will be making up the rain outs as a series of double headers over the rest of the season. Confused? You better believe it. 
• Please visit here for current league standings.
• Every week, I'm falling more and more in love with Shopper's Cafe. Why? Currently they have Boulevard Tank 7 on Draft. One of my favorite beers of all time. Come join us! 
• May 4th is the Midseason Party. Howl at the Moon! See here for more details.
• Anyone willing to being the subject of the next "So You Wanna Be a Kickball Star?" biography please email me here. 
• As always thanks to Tim Hoffman for use of his photos. Make sure you thank him when you see him at the field for making us look so damn good. (Well except for you Vivek.) 

Next Week

Diagramming an I'Don't Give a Damn to I'Don't Know to Who Double Play. 

Ghost Man on Third - Spring Edition - I am a Patriot

E Pluribus Unum

Hey, who grabbed my butt?

I can touch the red sun of Krypton in my hand!

Since I'm old, I have a deep fondness for the band U2. I count Bono giving me a fist bump as he signed an album for me outside of Madison Square Garden as one of my top 5 famous people moments. (Since I'm not a name dropper I won't got through the entire list. I will say that the oddest was pissing next to Stephen King in one of those old troughs they used to have in the Fenway mens room.) Anyway, in 1989, U2 released an album and movie, both titled Rattle and Hum. The movie was supposed to be a documentary of the band's triumphant US tour in support of their stellar mega album The Joshua Tree. The album was mix of live tracks and original recordings made while on the road. (Actually the "new" stuff they recorded for their album are probably some of their strongest songs.) The movie? Well the movie was a trainwreck. It was a first year film student's nightmare, and cut in the way to make the band look like a bunch of pretentious assholes. It is memorable for only it's unintentional comedy. 

There is however a scene where the bass player Adam Clayton, is sitting at a bar, drinking a Guinness and touching very superficially about the political inspirations for the band's  music. "Some people say, you shouldn't mix music and politics or sports and politics. I say that's bullshit." 

So it is in that spirit I write this week's newsletter. I, like I'm sure most of you were transfixed and deeply affected by the tragedy of last week. This very own WAKA community was touched by the death of MIT Officer Sean Collier, who played in the Ivy Division. As a Bruins fan, when I see that picture of Martin Richard taken at the game against the Islanders on April 11th, I have to fight back the tears. Having been fortunate enough to travel the world, and having family members who escaped oppressive regimes to come and live in the United States, I have a profound and deep admiration and love of my country. I'm proud of how Boston responded, and how the country and world have responded to the bombings and in the wake of the manhunt and capture of the perpetrators. 

Stupid gravity

That said, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS SACRED DO NOT FUCKING PLAY "GOD BLESS THE USA" BY LEE GREENWOOD. I despise all attempts to commercialize patriotism. Loving this country and what it represents, should not be used to sell anything, except maybe flags. It's pandering jingoism disguised as patriotism, all for the purpose of making money. Now while I understand making money is as part of the American identity as apple pie and baseball, it's still a pretty crass thing to do to make money off of patriotism. When Irving Berlin wrote "God Bless America" at least there was a war on. When Lee Greenwood wrote his pile of crap, the only active "conflict" for the US was Grenada. GRENADA! For Fuck's Sake! Furthermore the song is insulting because it's basically a bad pastiche of the two titans of patriotic song "God Bless America" and "America the Beautiful". And Berlin, Bates and Ward didn't rewrite their songs so they could sell a version in Canada, like Greenwood did, or reissue the original to capitalize on post 9/11 popularity. (Yeesh. This guy milks his one song worse than Danzig) There's a reason why this Onion article is so devastatingly funny.  

Fly high, free bird

There are many better ways to celebrate the freedom of this country offers. Speak your mind. Assemble. Pray to whatever God you want to. Start a media outlet (or kickball blog. Own a firearm for the purpose of being in a well regulated militia. Make em show probable cause to search and seize you. Don't allow soldiers to be forcibly quartered in your house. Fight for due process for anyone accused of a crime. Get a lawyer if you need a lawyer, and a speedy trial by a jury of your peers,  Don't be cruel in your punishment. Don't own slaves. Don't discriminate. Minorities vote. Pay your taxes. Don't drink. Drink. Directly Elect your Senator. Women Vote. Live. Be Free. Pursue Happiness. Just for the love of whatever God you may or may not believe in, don't play, buy or listen to "God Bless the USA". (If you so choose.) 

Games You People Played In

Dude, you're hula dancing is awful.

Franks Little Beauties 22 over Newton Benchmarks 0
With heavy hearts, Frank's Little Beauties came out wearing their supportive USA and Boston gear to show support. Once the game began it was all business, with every member of the team reaching base (most scoring) as FLB poured it on early and often. The highlight of the night came in the third inning when Ona "The Human Vacuum Cleaner" B. snagged two line drives down the third base line, robbing back to back kickers of extra bases, the second of which resulted in an inning ending double play. - Chris T. 

Sacks N' Racks 4 over Brief Student Concerns 1

Timmmmmber?

Awesome victory by Sacks and Racks, and what made it even better was showing off our fancy new tye-died shirts!! They were all the rage!!  We had a great game on defense and offense, held Brief Student Concerns to 1 run no thanks to so awesome fielding by the 3 AMIGOS..aka the Matt's!!  They ran, dove and fell backwards to make some really great catches!!  Also, outstanding pitching by Danny, Brett, and Justin with of course some face planting catches and grunting throws for the outs ...they got it done!!  Some outstanding base running by the some of the lovley ladies of sacks and racks...ilana, alison, britney, andrea, and erin.  players got a chance to play all different areas of the field that they may not be used to and they totally rocked them it!!! - Andrea J


Ninja Island 3 over Booze on First 0

Not sure if out, or just trolling me

Powered by the Orange Slices of Glory and Fame brought to the field by Sara B and Nick P, Ninja Island hula-hooped their way three times around the bases. The Coconut Bra of Conquest went to Jon M for his defensive prowess. Melissa D earned the You Must Be High "Medicinal" Wreath for her kick ass slide and run scoring. And Hadley L who drove in the winning run earned the Medallion of Strength. - David M

After getting blown out in week 1 Booze On First hoped to be more competitive in week two. Tough defense kept us in the game as it was scoreless through 2 innings. We got a few more base runners than usual but weren't able to capitalize. The Ninjas were able to finally get on the board using key bunts to manufacture some runs. We thought we would finally break through in the bottom of the 5th as Mike kicked one up the middle and Andrew tried to score fr second but was thrown out on a close play at home to end the game. Frank the Tank played solid defense at first and was also able to use his imposing physique to intimidate Paul during his at bats. Natalie and Andrew both pitched well. Mike played well in his debut at catcher. We hope to finally break through and get on the score board next week.- Sam B


Song of Video of the Week that Amuses Me (And Probably Only Me)

Originally written by Little Steven and the Disciples of Soul (Silvio Dante, to you Sopranos fans) about the same time as Greenwood committed his musical abortion, this is more like it for me in terms of modern patriotic songs. 



Song or Video of the Week that Amuses Me  BONUS



Boston Strong (It's a little dusty in this blog right now)

Miscellaneous

Now where's the waiter with my martini?

Please visit here for tonight's schedule.

Please visit here for current league standings.

Special Thanks as always to Tim Hoffman for his photos. Feel free to contribute your own here. 

Remember after the game to head over to Shopper's Cafe. Tip you servers! You don't want to end up on The Angry Bartender.

May 4th is the Midseason Party. Howl at the Moon! See here for more details.

Next Week

How to recognize different kickball players from a long way away...

Ghost Man on Third - Spring Edition - For Boston

FORWARD

In the next few days, as we as a community, city and nation recover (and we will recover. We always do.) from this tragedy, many people will say many words about the many angles to the events of today. Many people will use big words, bold words, words meant to push the buttons of people. Sadly in our world, the unity of grief and resolve we feel as a community, will be eroded by the words of men and women looking to score points. The altruistic will be replaced by the cynical, and the faucet of hyperbole will drench us in a deluge of words. 

I love words. In my heart of hearts I am a writer. To sit and create a sentence, to be read and understood by another human being, is my modest attempt of mattering. I don't write for money, or ego, or attention (well, much attention.)  I write because to form a word, to communicate, to me validates our existence in the chaos of creation. 

Yet as powerful as words are, and can be, they are at the end of a day like today meaningless. No words can justify the actions of the perpetrators. No words can bring back the departed to their loved ones, or heal the horrific injuries. No words will be able to completely heal the mental damage and trauma that we all will feel by being witnesses to today. 

Despite the impotence of words on a day like today, we all must move on. We need to express the powerful emotions that are churning within side all of us. It is what makes us human. It is what makes us a community. It is what gives us our power, the ability to communicate, to beat back the ignorance that allows this type of cowardice to occur. The most powerful word we have after a day like today is hope. To have a certain faith in ourselves and our humanity that we can overcome the ignorance and hatred that fuels this type of cowardly attack. To quote The Wire "You do not get to win, shitbirds." 

In watching the horrors of today, I saw this hope. The men and women who ran towards the explosions. The people who have given or will give blood in the next few days. The men and women of law enforcement who will work tirelessly on every shred of evidence, searching for those responsible. I see it in the stories of all the acts of kindness and compassion, and the millions of unforeseen acts of comfort as we all struggle with this day. In the next few days you will hear a lot of words. Of all the words you hear, I just pray you remember the only word that matters; Hope.

(via PostSecret)

Miscellany:

Please visit here for tonight's schedule.

Please visit here for current league standings.

Ghost Man on Third - Spring Edition - Restless Preamble

OPENING DAY

Everybody's Happy

For those of you who have been around the WAKA MA Commonwealth division for awhile, this newsletter needs no introduction. Awarded the "Best WAKA Newsletter" two years ago, this space is reserved for the lunatic ravings of me, punctuated by terrible jokes, song lyrics, recaps and kickball news. It's the time capsule of the next few months, so that in twenty years or so your children can find this and make fun of you for being an adult playing a kids game. (You're welcome future spawn!)

This spring, we're going to do things a little different contextually. Oh, it will still be full of lame jokes, highly esoteric pop culture references and full frontal nudity (*note: does not actually contain full frontal nudity), but it's going to be stripped down and bare bones: Ghost Man on Third Goes Acoustic, or if not that then all the major chords will switch with minor chords or vice versa and things will sound sadder or more happy depending upon your mood or the amount of mood enhancers in your bloodstream. The rationale is simple: I'm not funny enough to do two sets of bits for a spring and summer. I'm no Margaret Cho, for fuck's sake. 

Naptime's over

 With that restless preamble out of the way, I want to welcome you to the season. The concept of adult kickball is both brilliant and silly. When you first say to someone "I play kickball" we automatically go back to being small kids in gym class. Friends, relatives co-works dissolve into pools of laughter. And it's at you, not with you.  Relatively mature and immature adults playing a kids game. Definitely silly. Yet, therein lies the brilliance. This is a social sport. It's not for the hyper aggressive, corporate boasting and shenanigans you see with softball. There are no failed professional or wanna be professional kickballers roaming our fields. No ones is going to go out there and hire a professional to win the league (though I wonder what Alex Morgan and Abby Wambaugh are doing this summer). It's just a group of people getting together, having fun, and wearing garishly colored shirts (and if we're lucky, JORTS). 

I'd help you man, but
I'm admiring your jorts

So thank you for signing up. Paul Lurie, our customer service rep, and swell egg has done a bang up job getting this league started. We've moved to a spring field, and are grateful to the Gann Academy for letting us use their field. We've moved to a new bar, Shopper's Cafe, after the closing of our old haunt, the Boca Bar. This required a lot of leg work by Paul, and for this we are thankful.

These leagues are a blast, but like in all situations it is what you make of it. Come prepared to have fun, meet new people, and play with a big bouncy red ball. But also be prepared to do it responsibly. Since our field is on private property, there is NO SMOKING and NO ALCOHOL at the field. We may move into dickish terrority for stressing this everyweek, but it's the only conditions Gann gave us to use their field, and without a field, we're shit out of luck. Or we're shit out of ducks. I always get those confused. 

Anywho, I've gone on long enough (that's what you all say) so welcome, have fun, and let's play some kickball.

SONG OR VIDEO OF THE WEEK THAT AMUSES ME (AND PROBABLY ME ONLY). 

Could be an asshole.

For those of you who know me, hockey is my professional sports passion. I'm one of the rare Bostonians whose motto is "Bruins Uber Alles" and this and this are my national anthems, for whom the Red Sox, Patriots, and Celtics are trifling distractions from the real season. (Last week at the home game against Ottawa, I verbally upbraided some drunken jackass for trying to start the wave at the Garden. "Go back to Fenway, you pink hat" came out of my mouth at some point. Am I an asshole? Probably.) While I am fully cognizant of the NHL being a niche sport in the vast smorgasbord of entertaining options that we Americans cram into our pie-holes, I don't begrudge anyone who prefers baseball, football or basketball. As a member of the Tampa Bay Lightning said recently on discussing his team's support of the You Can Play initiative that supports and fights for tolerance of LGBT individuals in sports, "Some people drive cars. Some people drive trucks." While I do think those of you who aren't hockey fans are missing out, I don't judge you...much.

Anyway, one of the endearing parts of the relationship between hockey and their fans is the tradition of throwing things on the ice. Hats for a hat trick. Teddy Bears in the minor leagues for poor kids at Christmas.  Octopi in Detroit for the playoffs. Sex toys in Sweden and Montreal, because well, I'm still figuring that one out. Frozen Waffles in Toronto as some sort of absurdist protest to mismanagement. Hot dogs in Boston because people are assholes (It wasn't me). Hockey fans like to throw things. Of all the crazy things thrown on the ice, this however is my favorite. The best part, besides the chicken jokes and the classic gold uniforms of the LA Kings, is that the players keep playing.



SCHEDULE

The ball doesn't see him. He's a Ninja

6:00PM 

Diamond - Ninja Island v. Sacks N Racks

Referee: - Booze on First

Grass: - Brief Student Concerns v. Newton Benchmarks

Referee: - Frank's Little Beauties

6:50PM 

Diamond - Booze on First v. Frank's Little Beauties

Referee: - Sacks N Racks

MISCELLANEOUS

Gold Ball is Coming

• While my words should be enough for you miserable wretches, I've found you people like pictures too. So please take lots of photos and email them to me at corpsie@gmail.com, or via the twitters @clashrhino . Unless you are a luddite you should have a camera on your phone so there is no excuse. (Photos this week by Tim Hoffman)
• Please wear appropriate footwear. No metal cleats. 
• Remember that thing about no drinking or smoking on the field? Yeah. NO SMOKING OR DRINKING AT GANN ACADEMY. 
• Please be on time. There are no lights on the field, so we don't want games to be suspended because of the dark. 
• Follow the league on twitter @macommonwealth. All breaking league and league related weather info goes here first. 

NEXT EPISODE

The domestication of the dog continues unabated. 

Slowly Awakening from Hibernation

Season starts April 9th. 

New edition of Spring 2013 Ghost Man on Third coming on 4/9/2013, cause right now this is how we feel.