Things are looking up

We've won two games in a row; the last was by a run margin of 12. Liz Zamorski scored two, Brighton scored one, and Hutch firmly established that we should also participate in the DC JCC's Dodgeball Turkeybowl fundraiser fest.

This is such an incredible turnaround from the start of the season.

Not to say that we didn't have a good time. We had a fantastic time. At the bar. The kickball portion of the evening was kind of messy. It was so bad that even I asked to go to the bar early and I try to be Sober Sirinyay most of the time. We had lost Kyle, who usually positions himself in center field and dashes across the field, then starts running after the opponent, looking like a total foolio. (I usually yell, THROW THE FRIGGIN BALL BACK TO THE PITCHER so we can kill the play, but nobody listens to me.)

Also, Adam Heller, whom we had not heard from since the conclusion of last season, had signed up for the team. Except he hadn't shown up. Ever. And Adam Heller is wicked excellent at first base. If the ball rolled within the in-field, Hutch would chase after it and sling it to Adam. And every single time, Adam managed to make the catch look so graceful.

Hutch and I obviously have been talking Adam up to the rest of the rookies all season. And along with Becki, we finally met up with Adam after a year's absence of his presence on the field at Ben's Chili Bowl.

Becki whispered, "He's not as tall as you said he was."

"What are you talking about?" I asked. Talking came out Tawking, as I have started regressing into my Rachel Block-pseudo Long Island Jew but originally from Owings Mills, MD accent.

"Adam," she hissed. "He's not 7 feet tall like you said he was."

I looked up at Adam. He seemed plenty tall to me. Because I've grown into my habit of asking obnoxious questions, I asked him: "So how tall are you anyway?"

He told us his height. (Not seven feet, but definitely much taller than ME).

Hutch demonstrated this to Becki by asking Adam to raise his arms. Becki and I are both the same height and we promptly stared up above Adam's face to his finger tips. They extend well above seven feet. Heaven music went off in my head. (Hutch's too, probably.) My and Hutch's persistence in cajoling Adam into showing up for our kickball geams was totally worth it.

Holy smokes, moving sucks

So I am taking a break from a very important task - packing!

I can't believe it. My time here in DC is almost over. And I didn't realize how hard it would be to leave.

I did my undergraduate degree at Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts. I loved Northampton. It was the perfect college town for me - walkable, intensely liberal, and quirky - but I was ready to leave.

But I don't know if I am ready to leave DC.

I wasn't planning on leaving so soon. In fact, I was planning to be here through the end of the kickball season. (Why else would I have joined?) But things happened and plans changed. Also I killed my 27th mouse two nights ago, which affirmed my decision to get out of my apartment.

My summer will take me to many places - Philadelphia, Santa Cruz, San Francisco, Las Vegas, New Orleans, and Boston.

But I will miss my kickball team tremendously. I will miss the Hutchster for his intense loyalty to kickball as both a sport and as a way of life. No way did I know that I would become such good friends with the guy who walked in on me and Tim Lee hooking up. I will miss our captain Brian, as he is the nicest guy in the world (seriously), and his dog Wookie. I can't believe I just met Becki. There are so many other people to mention too: Lizzie (Z), her former roommate Jeremy, Brighton, Fred, Kat (my heckling fiend in crime), Adam Heller (whom I forgive for NEVER SHOWING UP THIS SEASON). Steve.

My sister Patty stared at me in a different way on Saturday night when she and her bff Olivia came to our kickball party at Grand Central. By this, I mean I wasn't sure she could take me that seriously. We play kickball and at the bar, we play flipcup. "Isn't that so college?" she'd asked. Perhaps. But it's fun. Kickball had a stable place in my life. As a member of the Lame Train of Life, without kickball (and frisbee; I played on a WAFC team for four seasons), I know I wouldn't see my friends as often nor would I have met as many people as I have in DC.

So I'm grateful.

Meanwhile Patty and Olivia did win huge brownie points in the eyes of Carter Rabasa, the founder of DCKickball and one of my and Hutch's reasons for living, when they walked up to where he was collecting donations for our charity, Project Northstar, and handed him an extra five bucks. "For no reason whatsoever except to give," Carter remarked when he came by me, the sister and Olivia later on Saturday night.

In closing, I leave you with a picture of my new digs and footage from our last game.
http://picasaweb.google.com/GoingBackToLA/ShabbosVictory2

Bye Week Blues...and Farewell to Sirinyay

This week we are on bye. The league had enough of us winning and decided to give us a week off to let the other teams win. Good. I will be in the gym this entire week throwing steel. I will make sure to focus on my legs and my throwing arm so that I can hit more home runs and throw the ball with enough force to knock people over.

Sirinyay is leaving the East Coast for her LA dreams this week. She will be missed. Sirinyay Tritipeskul, dutiful ex girlfriend of my friend Timothy Lee, is a shining light in Washington, DC. Her friends call her a DC legend. We will have to find a new legend to take her place.

Hutch

Columbia Mid-Season party rocked

Me, my sister Patty (she is like four inches taller than me, and has on heels), and the Hutchster (smiling brightly because he KNOWS he wants to be in the picture).

I boogeyed down, practicing my nerd camp dance moves, on the dance floor at Grand Central in Admo. Ari and Steve boogeyed with me. Hutch focused on the flip cup.

More pics and words to come.

Thoughts on the 16-4 victory

This is what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass.

This is what happens when you fuck a stranger in the ass!

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FUCK....A....STRANGER....IN THE ASS!

We brought the strategy and the fury again to the kickball pitch last night. It became embarassing at the end of the game. After hitting home runs in the first two innings, we held a 14-4 lead at which point I decided that defense was the key to winning the game. I then became a maniac at third base, running down every ball and then running towards helpless girls and pegging them. By the end of the game, I had one girl punch me in the arm for chasing her into the outfield, another girl who refused to shake our hands after the game because I got a running start and threw the ball at her shoulder, and the last batter of the game STOPPED RUNNING to first base and waved her arms saying "ok, ok!" because I was running full steam at her. I then flipped the ball underhand lightly at her and the game was over.

Maybe I was playing "too hard" but that's the only way I know how to play. There is no crying in kickball. The only thing I feel bad about is I threw it pretty hard at the one girl because it was a close play. We are definitely the thugs of the league. Every game there are at least 2 collisions, including Becki taking someone's legs out in this game. Actually, she was just tagging the base and he completely ran into her. Somehow the refs called him safe even though:

A. She tagged the base before he got there

B. He ran into her which means she tagged him as well

C. He fell past the base and he got up and was standing 5 feet from the base and we tagged him again.

I'm still bitter about that but we got all of the runs back when I hit a grand slam in the next inning.

I feel it was a stirring send off for our fearless kickball champion Sirinyay. She has really grown from someone who didn't know how to play into a bunting on base percentage machine. She will truly be missed.

Now to the matter at hand. We have a 2 game winning streak and are 2-0 since the implementation of the lineup. We need to keep scoring at will and tighten up our defense and we have a shot at running the table. Let's bring the pain!

Squashing victory 16-4

Old skool kickball.

Becki races off to first base!

For this, my last game of competitive adult kickball, the marking of the end of my DC era yuppiehood, my beloved team, "I Don't Roll on Shabbos" whooped ass on the competition, winning 16-4. (Granted the other team was way undermanned).

Victory was sweet and we played well. Liz Z scored not only one but two runs and Brighton scored one run. (There is great video of her jumping up and down for joy when she made it second base...) I don't even know who scored what. I lost track because I was having such a good time, even if I couldn't play because I had a minor concussion incurred from falling off my bike.

An aside - moments before the game started:
Captain Brian: Oh I thought you were joking when you said you were going off to get your head checked.
Me: [classic awkward; stares at him as though I were perfectly normal] Why would I joke about that?

Cyclone Dennis from nerd camp fame came out for this, my last kickball game. He rocked a t-shirt that was about six sizes too small and donned cleats. We went through a process of switching shirts with other teammates.

I'd really like to challenge the other teams we lost to horrendously to a rematch.

The league is now scared of us

The captain came to play last week. The ferocity of his kickball energy could only be matched by his team's reckless thrashing of the other team.

The league is now scared of us. We could be the greatest 1-3 team in kickball history.

We are going to win on Wednesday. We are going to beat them down worse than Brick Tamland during the news fight.