|And now Larry realizes that softball sucks.|
My basic job outline was to manicure each baseball and softball diamond each day (there was other stuff to do, but this was the big one) with my partner (Boz one year, Ace’s Cousin Joe the other). If I recall correctly, there are ten total diamonds in town. That meant dragging and chalking the fields and maybe moving bases and pitching rubbers around if the fields were multi-purpose. This did not take all day obviously. Once we were done, it was either time for a siesta or being a pervert or digging into the massive piles of nudie mags found over the years (you wouldn’t believe the stacks of porno mags that were found in city parks). For awhile, I think that I had every word of a January 1997 edition of CHEEKS memorized. I only read it for the articles, of course.
It was great. I wish that I could still do it. It was the ultimate fuck-around job for a very immature me. But there were a few times when it sucked. If the bulk of your job is field maintenance, then obviously that bitch cunt Mother Nature can ruin things quickly. There was nothing finer than a full day of rain and obvious rain-outs coming. But when it just poured for an hour in the afternoon, just enough to puddle up, then you knew you were fucked.
The head honcho (and apparent enjoyer of orgies if rumors are true and I really want to believe this one), our Ron Swanson, was a big fan of calling games off at the very last minute. The good news was that that meant overtime. The really fucking awful news was that that meant that we were expected to push water off of the diamonds for the next 2 or 3 hours, ruin our shoes, and enjoy that always awesome northwest Ohio post-rain 8000% humidity. Basically, all the fields had to be done over again but this time we had about 2 hours to do ten of them. It was not easy. Rain is the worst. Are you still with me? I’m getting there. You needed the back story to get to the pay off.
Down in the most wretched area of Nap, a lawless subculture of scum and villainy and domestic violence and Detroit Tigers porch flags known as “Goose Town”, sat the city’s lone two men’s softball diamonds (at Riverdowns Park). We were in charge of these, too. It was always risky working on those fields early as some of the local shoeless little shits would sometimes play on there after our work was done and fuck everything up. The big, bad softball players were known to call in and complain if their fucking foul lines weren’t straight enough (apparently they deserved a MLB grounds crew) so it was important to get it right the first time. “GET OFF THE FIELD, YOU LITTLE FUCKERS!” was not an uncommon thing to yell at little kids in Goose Town—the Compton of Naptown.
OK, so the problem here was that our Ron Swanson liked to play softball and he liked it way too much. It didn’t matter if we got three inches of rain at 5 pm, we were expected to have those fields ready by 6 so that he and his asshole swinger buddies could play and, more importantly, WIN GODDAMMIT!!! Since these fields were right off of the muddy Maumee River, they held water for shit. If you even spit on the field, third base would look like a kiddie pool. But we were always told to use as much Diamond Dry and approved overtime as necessary to get those two fields ready. Have you ever pushed water off of an infield before? I can’t really describe how much it sucks except for this: imagine shoveling snow from a driveway that never ends. The puddles just keep coming back and the dirt just turns into mud. There are 4 or 5 of us out there (pretty much the entire department) working our asses off yet there was always a few lovely softball-playing gentleman hanging around and complaining about how the fields weren’t ready. Well, I’m sorry, Guy-Wearing-Baseball-Pants-And-Eye-Black, next time I’ll have the clouds piss on us two hours earlier.
We would eventually get the fields ready for some sort of play although they were way too soft to be on anyway (that did not matter at all to Orgy King). Did anyone on the four teams waiting to play say thanks or good job or show any sort of empathy at all? Fuck no. They still bitched and moaned because now they might not get their second game in before dark that night. And guess who was back at Riverdowns at 7:30 AM the next morning being told to pick up the softball team’s trash from the night before? THIS GUY. I guess that the giant green barrels with TRASH written on them were not obvious enough and that the grass was a much better option for their Old Mil cans and Skoal tins. This happened MULTIPLE times. I realize that that was my job, but still, there was no reason to be a cocksucking asshole about it. And that is why I will never forgive "men's softball player".
Hell, I actually played softball that second summer (in a different town). I showed up to the first game with a sixer only to find out that this was a dry league. Weak. It was nothing special. I didn't hate it. I didn't really like it. It was just something to do. They wanted me to play third base but I had no desire to field rockets for six innings so I volunteered to play right field where I just picked my nose. I haven't played again since that summer with Click Chiropractic (we were terrible, by the way, and I did not care). But anyway, to the conclusion of my softball hate story...
I bet you’re wondering if Groupsex Swanson ever showed any gratitude to us for ignoring the other 8 diamonds in the city that KIDS PLAYED ON to focus on the two that he played on. Nope. Absolutely nothing from the boss man. But I got him back by putting a HUGE dent in his work truck later that summer. It is never a good idea to have me tow around a couple hundred gallon water tank and be expected to reverse with it still attached. Just patch it up with some Diamond Dry, asshole.
So that is the reason why I hate men’s softball. It might not be fair to lump everyone together under one banner of “TOTAL ASSHOLE WHO SHOULD DIE VIA CHOKING ON TEN DICKS” but it’s not fair to call blacks lazy or Mexicans smelly either. Yet here we are and stereotypes make the world go ‘round. They are all a bunch of ingrates who put their own bullshit ahead of hundreds of little kids and sexy city employees. And that is exactly the reason why I say that everyone who plays men’s softball is gay. Don’t ask why. They just are.
You’re getting a second dose of Iceman tomorrow as I have to make a quick trip back to the aforementioned Naptown this evening (to watch some softball?). So get ready for that. I'm sure that it will be incredible as always.