Welcome to the Thunderdome

I was originally anonymous on this blog. I decided I wanted to open up to my friends and family, so I took the time and “cleaned up” some of the more sensitive material, but there are few nuggets here that I want to share becuase I find them pretty hilarious. Enjoy.

Softballs

My roommate asked me, my brother, and another friend of ours to join his company softball team. For the past few years, my brother and I have been fervently trying to get enough people together to field a softball team, but it just hasn’t worked out. Luckily for us, this opportunity finally came along.

We played our first game last week, and it was fairly interesting because I have never played an organized game of softball. Baseball is all that I’ve known. Needless to say, they are so alike, and I was pretty stoked. Besides, baseball is such a difficult sport for amateurs to pick up and play. A lot of amateurs are those who played high school ball and college ball, but they were never good enough to play professionally. However, these guys are usually 10x better than most people who just play casually like we do.

There was definitely a slight adjustment period in getting used to throwing a softball versus a hardball. This was especially exacerbated when warming with the hardball and moving to the softball. The softball just seemed to slip right out of my hand prematurely. I made adjustments quickly though.

The game was set to begin. My brother was doing the catching like usual, but catching in slow pitch is much different obviously because he’s not wearing gear and standing far behind the plate. I was out in left field for most of the game.

I don’t know whether the field is deceptively small or what, but my first shock was that the balls don’t seem to travel as far as I thought they would. I know they were softballs being hit at lower speeds, but I still thought some of the bigger guys would generate a bit more power.

We gave up a few runs in the first inning, as we did in almost every other inning as well. Everyone’s fielding was atrocious, because errors seemed to be the way most hitters reached base and how most runners scored. I’m not one to talk, though. I charged a ball rolling pretty quickly towards me and I was all set to scoop it and throw it right in. The only problem was that when I slammed on the brakes, I went into a slide and skidded right past the ball. I fell right on my ass. It was embarrassing. I’ll have to remember to wear sneakers with better traction next time.

My brother even made an error, but like the awesome brothers we are, I backed him on the play. A runner from third was trying to score and he started to chase the runner back. When he threw it to the third baseman, he just threw it badly and missed (he’s not used to throwing a softball either). However, I knew that it was probably a good idea to run in on plays in infield to back up the third baseman., which I did. The runner started to go home again, when I scooped and gunned it back to my bro. It may have been wiser for me to hold it a moment and try to get him out, but I think it was better to save the run than get the out. My brother started chasing him back, but he made it back to third.

The innings wore on, they would score a few, we would score a few. My brother and I were having great days at the plate, I was 3 for 3 going into the bottom of the 7th, as was him too. The bottom of the 7th was the last inning, and we were down 20-15. We only needed 5 runs to tie. My brother led off the inning with a double.

Guess who was next?

I just didn’t want to make an out, I wanted to win so bad. I hate losing. I was able to smash a ground ball to the right side, and I sprinted down to first base. There is no doubt in my mind that I’m probably the fastest person on the team. I used to run track, and I was a pretty good sprinter. Needless to say, I was safe, and my brother was into third. I got advanced to 2nd base on another hit from the next guy.

On the next play, the batter hit the ball to the left side, and I knew I was going to be a dead duck. I sprinted as fast I can and I saw that the 3rd baseman had the ball. For a split second, I saw that the 3rd baseman was trying to decide whether to tag me or step on the base. He thought too long. While he had me by three or four steps, I took a giant leap and turn my body away from the tag and I made it. Thank God you can over run the bases in soft ball. My whole team let out a collective “Holy shit! How the hell did he dodge that!” The 3rd baseman was impressed too. I scored on the next ground out.

I sat back down and watched a few more batters come up. It was 19-20 with two outs. The next batter was able to hit it to the right side, and everyone was safe! The score was tied. My roommate who invited me was up next, he’s usually a great hitter, but he grounded the ball to the shortstop, who was definitely their best fielder. Unfortunately, it was getting too dark for the game to go on for another inning, but it ended up being an exciting game.

I’m definitely digging this softball thing. One thing I miss about being a kid is playing on a team. It is only in rare instances like this, or playing intramural sports like broom ball that I get this release. I also haven’t been able to get a ton of exercise in the past year due to my wrist injury, so this was extra sweet for me. The whole event ended up being a psychological release as a return to the proverbial field of battle. I know it sounds cheesy, but I’m having trouble putting it into words. When you are away so a while, it’s such a great feeling to be back doing what you missed in the meantime.

Continued Arguing with my Grandfather

The other day, I talked about an article by potential Republican Presidential candidate Ron Paul. I ended up sending it to almost everyone in my family. Every person that I’ve talked to regarding it gave it a favorable read. I was all set to pat my self on the back.

Enter my grandfather.

You may have read about how my grandfather and I tend to disagree on a lot of issues. For the life of me, I didn’t see why he would be extremely upset about this article. The arguments seemed perfectly logical. He wasn’t saying anything excessively inflammatory. But I guessed wrong.

The article by Ron Paulwas about patriotism. My grandfather thought I, was questioning him, a WWII vet, on his patriotism. I can absolutely see why he would be upset about that. The problem is…that wasn’t the case at all! He complained to my dad (which he does to my dad too often, I just wish he came to me if he had a problem with me), and my dad was obviously frustrated by it. Thankfully, my dad was able to partially defuse it before I talked with my grandfather.

A few days after I sent the e-mail, I spent a few hours doing some yard work around his house. There was no mention of the whole thing, and I thought it would be great if the issue never came up. Sure enough though, right when I was about to leave, he brought it up.

I quickly apologized for any misconception that I may have been questioning his patriotism. However, I stood by my ground when I said that I agreed with the article and that President Bush and Co. are perverting what patriotism meant. He accepted my apology, but he still didn’t agree with me. I personally don’t care if he disagrees with me, but what I won’t accept is when he disagrees with me based on false information. Here are the top 3 things that he and a lot of war supporters still believe.

Misinformation #1: Iraq had helped in 9/11

No, not true. Most of the hijackers came from Saudi Arabia, and they were sponsored by Al-Qaeda. Saddam and Al-Qaeda were never in league with each other. They hated each other. Saddam was a SECULAR FASCIST.

Misinformation #2: You don’t hear about all the good stuff happening there.

Why would we when thousands upon thousands of Iraqis are dying? Why would we when most public works projects such as schools, roads, and other infrastructure are immediately destroyed?

Misinformation #3: We had to get rid of Saddam Hussein

Saddam Hussein was by no means a saint. He was certainly brutal and has killed many Kurds (which we should have intervened in way back then). However, is the world any better of at this point without him? Everyone in Iraq is killing each other with impunity in a country where anarchy reigns.

Let’s not forget there was no weapons of mass destruction, at least my grandfather acknowledges that.

We slightly shifted topics. Seeing how it was Memorial Day, the conversation headed further towards military service. He talked about how it burned him up when the Guard and the Reserves got free passes in the Korean and Vietnam Wars. He went on to say that the guardsmen and reservists know what they got themselves into. I definitely disagree with that. I do think that they should do their part, but there was no way any of the guardsmen of reservists could have possibly fathomed that they would be serving nearly full time in their respective branches. It was unprecedented, and it is not fair to ask these service wo/men and their to make this undue sacrifice without giving them an objective to win the war.

In my opinion, if there was a real war worth fighting, there would be a draft. Even then, that’s not a sure thing.

He started asking my brother and me if we thought about doing any military service. Clearly, his memory is extremely short because he seemed to forget that I was in the Army ROTC for a year. I wasn’t upset about him questioning me about it, but I was upset that he did that to my brother.

A quick aside for the moment: We grew up Catholic, and for that reason in addition to my brother’s great empathy for others, he suffers from a fairly substantial guilt complex. You don’t find too many good people like my brother who are willing to do more than sacrifice their own comfort for strangers. He wrote this in an e-mail to me the other day (grammar mistakes in all):

I was a little taken aback by G’s comment about joining the Guard and stuff. I mean, I think it’s crossed everyone’s mind at some point in their life. I just don’t see myself as a millitary kind of guy. The I’ve worked out for myself reasoning makes me feel selfish because it makes me wonder why all these soldiers have to die and I get to keep living happily.

I doubt my grandfather knew this would stir up my brother like that, but he’s already over it anyway.

I have to venture and say that maybe my grandfather suffers a persecution complex in addition to his unwavering faith and conviction. Faith and conviction are wonderful things, but they should not come at the expense of reason and openness. As for the persecution, I guess he might feel attacked or betrayed that I don’t feel the same way he does about these matters, but I hope that that is only because he cares and wants to keep us on the straight and narrow. He just forgets that we’re adults now, we can think for ourselves, and that we have to carve out our own paths in life.

Random Party Anecdote #3

We were having one of our first parties of the year at my new place. A good amount of people actually showed up. We had a huge stockpile of liquor, a beer ball, and a lot of better quality beer in bottles and the like.

At around 2:00 in the morning, the beer ball was kicked and the party was winding down. I was slightly disappointed that this freshman girl I invited to the party never came. As the crowd thinned, my brother and I started up the old Super Nintendo and played some drunken Mortal Kombat II.

I was kicking the shit out of him, well, maybe he was kicking the shit out of me, it’s not important. I heard the door buzz, and someone went to go answer it. I figured it was buddy of ours that just stepped outside and needed to come back in or something. That wasn’t the case.

Instead, it was the freshman girl and two other girls. She came in and saw my brother and I duking it out in Mortal Kombat II. Granted, I know there could be worse things, but looking through her eyes, I would think I was pretty lame. Couple that with the party dying down, she stayed all of 3 minutes.

The conversation kind of went like this:

SC: Hey, what’s up, what have you been up to tonight?

E: Not much, just been hitting a few parties.

SC: That’s cool, we’re kind of winding down here, we already killed the beer ball…

E: Ah, I see.

(awkward pause)

SC: Hey, uhhh…can I get you anything?

E: Nah, that’s alright, we’re gonna to get going anyway.

SC: Oh.

My friends kept asking me, “why didn’t you friend show up?” I told them that she did. They all said, “we didn’t see her!” That ’s when I had to say, she was only here for all of 5 minutes, and that she caught me playing Mortal Kombat II. They had quite a few laughs.

Needless to say, I never quite recovered from that one. That was my chance to be the cool older guy with a raging party, and I blew it. I still had a good time though.

Injurious

Out of all the times in my life, there have been many times I’ve been lucky not to be seriously injured by many of my own stupid antics. Surprisingly, none of these occurred in a drunken state. These are those stories:

Activity: Wrestling Match
Possibility of severe injury: High
Actual injury: Soreness

There was one night in my dorm where I instigated a floor wide shaving cream fight. That was the fun part. After all of the adrenaline, I challenged my rather large friend to a wrestling match. I pretty much had him on the ground, and I was going for the headlock. Unfortunately, he not only had more than 50lbs on me, he also had quite a height advantage too. He was able to fairly easily get up and pick me up over his head. When he did that, he lost his balance as I was proceeding head first to the floor. My head almost nailed my steel bed frame, but instead, my face just smashed into the floor. I landed squarely on my nose, and unbelievably, not only did I not suffer a broken neck or nose, there was no bleeding bruising either. It was severely sore for several days though.

Activity: Crowd Surfing
Possibility of severe injury: Medium
Actual Injury: Slight headache

After a the Patriots won the Super Bowl, a massive crowd of us hit the streets. Soon enough, the crowd turned riot sized. One of my friends thought it would be particularly funny to send me crowd surfing. Before I knew it, I was sent up and surfing the crowds. It was fun for the whole 30 seconds I was in the air. I was surfing on my back and I got a sudden huge push that sent me flying in a head first direction towards the ground. I only remember thinking that there was no way I was going to land on my two feet and braced for impact until someone caught me. My head banged his shoulder pretty hard, but I ended up just fine. Unfortunately, some other kid died that night, he got hit by a car.

Activity: Biking
Possibility of Severe Injury: Low
Actual Injury: Fractured bone in wrist

I was on my way to meet up with my dad and brother for dinner and a Red Sox game. I was riding my bike in the streets and wasn’t paying complete attention. My front tire hit a hole in the road and I flew over the handlebars onto my out stretched right hand. I got up and I noticed the pain in my wrist right away. I thought it was bruised because nothing looked broken. I met up with my dad and brother and went to the Red Sox game. The pain was still bothering me, but I couldn’t leave because Jon Lester was pitching a shutout. After the game, which the Sox won 1-0, I went to the ER. Yeah, it was broken. Two months in cast, three months out, not completely healed, surgery, two months in a cast, three months out, almost healed.

Activity: Baseball
Possibility of severe injury: Low
Actual Injury: Bruise

I pitching to my friend and threw my trademarked “not so fast ball” right over the plate. My buddy took a huge swing and hit a screamer right into my chest. I took a few steps back and fell over. My friends thought I was dead for a second, but I ended up just fine. No cracked ribs.

Activity: Baseball
Possibility of severe injury: Low
Actual Injury: Bruise

I was playing catch with my brother and a friend. My friend threw the ball and it was heading for my face. I put my glove up to catch just like any other time when I feel this solid mass hit my jaw. My friend and brother just thought I missed the ball and had no idea I took it to the face until I fell over (mainly out of shock) My jaw hurt for more than a week, but luckily, I didn’t have any trouble eating and nothing was broken.

Activity: Running
Possibility of severe injury: Low
Actual Injury: Road Rash

In high school, I was on the track team. My main events were the hurdles, low and high. I was competing in the 300m hurdle event and I was in the home stretch. I was about to clear the last hurdle…only I didn’t. Instead, I think my trail leg tripped on the descent and I fell over. My shoulder skidded across the pavement, and I had a scrape on the side of my face. While skidding across the track, I distinctly remember hearing the crowd give a collective “oooooo”. That wasn’t my proudest moment. I couldn’t run for a week after that because of the laceration on my shoulder. Luckily, I didn’t need stitches.

Scrambled Logic and Lessons from My Grandfather

I’m still riding this emotional roller coaster that I’ve been on for quite a few months now. I’ve been feeling a little bit better in the past week, which is bad for this blog. It was easy to write when I was extremely miserable or pissed off. At least I was thinking clearly in that state of mind. It also doesn’t help that whenever I feel close to getting a complete thought out, I have to answer the company phone and I lose that short “moment”.

But here is what is bothering me today:

I don’t understand my grandfather at all sometimes. It is amazing to me that one of the smartest and wisest men I know can also be one the most close-minded and foolish. There doesn’t seem to be a way to reconcile these two contradictions. How can someone be wise and close minded? It is possible to some degree.

There are many moments in my life and moments yet to come that will be valuable to whoever I pass the experience on to. My grandfather lived in such an interesting time in this country. He grew up during the Great Depression and fought in World War II. He lived and saw all of the social changes of the 2nd half of this 20th century. These are the stories I love to hear. Not much can match a living account of history.

Despite all of this, there just seems to be an age when the elderly stop caring about learning anything new. They figure they know all of what they need to know, and they don’t need to know anything further. Why does this search for knowledge and truth end? Why do people stop challenging themselves? I know I have certain values and ideals, but I feel that if I discovered new information, new perspective, or arrived at a different conclusion, I may change my mind about them.

While I try my best to be respectful when I disagree with him, he does not extend the same to me. I’ve learned that without respect, any debate on sensitive issues descends into chaos extremely quickly. I also feel that he discounts my opinions on the account of youth. I don’t understand what’s wrong with a fresh perspective. If anything, I probably know more about these issues than he does. Not only do I not have to support an ailing spouse, I also have a ton a free time on my hands to learn and craft my arguments. But, no matter what I say, it’s always, “There are some universal truths, SC, and that’s the way it is.”

That last statement especially bothers me. This is most obviously directed at religion and faith. I personally don’t have a problem with religion and faith. I’m fairly religious, and I attend church more often than not. The problem occurs when religion stops critical thinking. God (if you believe in God, which I do) gave us the ability to think and reason. Why must many of the religious (especially the right wing religious) kick reason to the curb on many social issues? This enables those who hide behind religion but who are really just plain evil to execute their detrimental agenda.

But what do I know, right?

I was a major poser in High School

Sometimes I wish I could have a conversation with my high school self.

I imagine the conversation would have went something like this:

Old Self: Dude, I’m so punk.

Me: No, you’re not.

OS: Punk is a lifestyle, man. Anarchy.

Me: No, its not.

OS: Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about.

Me: Yeah, I do.

OS: Whatever.

Me: Let me ask you this, why do you want to be a “punk” so bad?

OS: Because it’s cool, and I believe in it.

Me: What do you believe in?

OS: You know, being yourself and stuff.

Me: So, “being yourself” is a punk ideal? And wearing a steel ball necklace with a skull on it, a wallet chain, baggy clothes, band t-shirts, listening to the Ramones, and styling your spiky hair that you won’t dye an outrageous color even though you want to fit in with that lifestyle but won’t because your parents won’t let you, is punk?

OS: What?

Me: Well, I still have spiky hair, wear band t-shirts, listen to the Ramones on occasion, but I don’t feel like I have to identify with being a “punker”. I know you are searching for an identity, but a lot of the things you like you can just like and be yourself. Plus, anarchy is pretty stupid. Wait until you start following politics, you’ll understand.

OS: Politics is gay.

Me: Sometimes.

(pause)

Me: Did you know you’re going to love Johnny Cash in a few years?

OS: You’re lying, he’s…country!

The iPod and social anxiety

I just left my job the other day and was waiting for the subway. There were about 15 people or so waiting and I noticed this one girl sitting on a bench. I slyly try to check her out. She’s pretty good looking.

The train arrives and I take a seat relatively close to her. I was going through my head trying to think of a possible way to try and start up a conversation. I noticed that she took a little memo book out of her purse and started writing. From what I could tell, she was writing about her observations of people on the train. But then my interest really peeked, because she was writing in a memo book that looked exactly like mine.

I usually keep mine for random thoughts, ideas, and whatever I feel I need to jot down.

It sounds lame to get excited about something like this, but the whole situation seemed too interesting to let go. I was about to shut off my iPod to try and go for it, but then I noticed she was listening to her iPod too. I didn’t notice because she had her hood up.

I wasn’t sure how to proceed.

So I did nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

I got off at my stop, and surprisingly, she got off at the same one.

We were both heading in the same direction and I followed her for a block. But then she went in a different direction.

I did nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

A cold approach is hard enough, and she probably did not want to be bothered. I probably wouldn’t have succeeded in maintaining a conversation, never mind getting her number. Maybe I wouldn’t have even liked her if I stared talking to her. But nothing makes it harder than when somebody is listening to an iPod.

How do you break that barrier? There aren’t any social rules for this yet. I could just try to talk over that, and then I would have to repeat whatever dumb conversation started I could think of. I could have also just kept trying to make eye contact with her and smile, something that is also difficult in our culture.

This is hardly a new topic to blog about, but I feel like I really missed an opportunity here. It pains me sometimes to add another “what if” to the master “what if” list. I just hope that I take the risk the next time an opportunity comes.

Edit: Violent Acres has something interesting to say on this situation. Maybe it was a good idea I didn’t say anything, but then again, most people aren’t as wonderfully bitchy as she is.

A Bad Time

Not too long ago, I was having a party at my place. I was dating this girl for a few months at the time. I was beginning to really like her. She was cool, smart, and pretty, in a hippie sort of way. She said she would do her best to try and make it to the party because she was busy at a rehearsal of some sort that night.

It was close to 2am, and she finally made it. I was pretty plastered by that time, but I was happy she came nonetheless. We were alone upstairs for a few minutes in my room. I said:

Me: I’m glad you came.

X: Me too.

Then we had a little moment, and finally, I thought, “it’s nice to finally have a relationship heading in the right direction for a change.”

Me: Can I tell you something?

X: What?

Me: I really like you.

She then looked at me uncomfortably. She kind of looked away from me and started,

X: Don’t take this the wrong way, but I want to be honest with and I don’t think I’m really into having a serious relationship right now…

And the talk went on. I really didn’t know what to say at that point. I was tired and drunk as balls. I didn’t mind where we were at in our relationship at that time, but I was beginning to look for a little more. She basically slammed on the brakes. I think I knew deep down that our relationship was now destined for failure.

It died three weeks later.

The fact of the matter is, I am glad that she was honest with me and didn’t string me along. I don’t think I really even did anything wrong. Yes, she was busy, yes, she was moving home for the summer (too far from where I am).

But there was probably a better time she could have brought it up. I didn’t get a chance to analyze everything fully. I never had a chance to maybe turn the tables the other way. Or maybe I would have saved myself the trouble and I could have decided to end it.

I don’t even know what I’m really griping about. I just feel like I put a lot of needless effort and emotional investment into a dying relationship when I should have known better. It sucks that I put a lot more in than I ever got out. I can’t help but feel a little cheated in the end.

There really isn’t a moral to this story. Blame me for being drunk, or blame her for the timing. The chances are that the whole thing would have unraveled anyway.

To Blindly Follow or Not

There was an interesting point in my life a few years ago. After the events of September 11, some of my perspectives changed as it probably did for a lot of other people. I know this is rather trite, but bare with me. I felt this new obligation and pride in the United States that I never felt before. I started to look into joining the military.

The more I read about it, the more I idealized and idolized being a soldier. It seemed like a noble profession. I would give to the government, and the government would take care of me.

After more research, I decided that enrolling in ROTC once I got to college would be the best choice for me. For those of you who don’t know what the ROTC program is, it is a program where you train multiple times a week, take military classes, and attend a special advanced training during a summer or two. When you graduate, you are commissioned a 2nd Lieutenant (or Ensign in the Navy). A commissioned officer is different from enlisted rank. Enlisted rank go to basic training and start as Privates or Seamen, then go up from there.

My mother encouraged me reluctantly. She herself was in an ROTC program for a little while during her college years, but ultimately did not contract and join. So I decided to try it out.

I graduated high school in 2003. The war in Iraq was just starting.

When I started college later that year, I enrolled. At this time, I was still pretty unaware of politics and the like. I always identified myself as a liberal, but I was fairly moderate.

The hardest part about being in the program turned out not be the physical aspect. I loved all of the exercise and I was in the best shape of my life so far.

The reality check came for me when I learned that the military is just like any other company or corporation. Sure, your colleagues care about you, but you learn quickly that the names at the top of the organization do not. There was so much red tape, and never was I given a clear answer on any question I had. My biggest concern was what was going to happen to me once I graduated. No one could give me the straight answer:

“It depends on the needs of the Army/Navy/Marines/Air Force” Which of course meant I had a great chance to end up in the infantry or some other combat oriented position.

Fuck that. Maybe I wouldn’t have cared if we were at peace. But there was no way I was going to be potentially sent to my death under the hand of George W. Bush. The war wasn’t even as bad then as it is now. But something in my gut told me I couldn’t do this. I’ve always tried to listen to my instincts, because more often than not, they’ve been right.

Another problem is the nature of the military world vs. the civilian world. As a civilian, in whatever kind of work you do, you have the potential ability to make change. You have the ability to listen to your conscience. You have the ability to voice your opinions. You can do all of these and usually the worse thing that will happen is that you lose your job. But you can’t do any of these things in a culture where you have to follow orders under threats of severe and real punishment. You can even be accountable for following illegal orders.

Then there were other obnoxious cadets:

C#1: Who are you going to vote for President?

Me: Kerry. I don’t trust Bush.

C#1: You don’t trust your commander in chief?

What I should have said: No, I believe he is recklessly endangering the country and trying to engage a faceless enemy just like we did in Vietnam.

What I actually said: No. He’s stupid.

Thankfully, I did become more informed of the issues as time went on. I guess college will do that to you.

You can call me a fucking coward for these reasons, but why would I want to give my life to someone who would be so reckless with it. I’m lucky that I have other potential options for success in my life and that joining the military isn’t my only option. But what about those who don’t have much of a choice? Those are the ones I feel for. As for those who join because what they think they’re doing is right, I pray and hope all of you make it home with your lives and without injuries, but I’m going to disagree that what we’re doing over there is the right thing.

And no, I have no idea how to fix it, but staying there is probably a worse option.

This experience served as a caveat to me. I can’t blindly follow what anyone says without questioning it. You’re lucky if you have family and friends who look out for your best interests, because there are many other people and institutions that do not. And they’re paying the price. One of the saddest moments I ever felt was when I visited Arlington National Cemetery not too long ago. I saw gravestones for soldiers not too older much than myself. Some were only 18 years old.

But not everything was all bad about it. Being a part of a team and having a sense of belonging to something greater than yourself is a great feeling. However, the price of this is individuality. I may be able to give up some of it for the right cause, but not for this one.