Hey, remember me? The guy everyone kept pointing at from the game on Sunday, #99 Larry Bonds? Things got a little heated out there, and I think you may have misinterpreted some of my actions during our 20-3 victory over your team. I just wanted to take a chance to set the record straight so that no one accuses anyone of being a bad sport, especially in a court of law.
First, I know that, to an untrained eye, it seemed like I was “arguing” a lot of calls. But part of the game of baseball—and its sister sport, softball—is the banter between the umps and the players. It’s a tradition, akin to a comedy roast. On the surface, it seems highly aggressive, but between the words, there’s the warmth of a hug. So, really, I was kidding when I asked the ump if he had just fucked his mother because he was blinder than Oedipus.
I do realize that a lot of my yelling may have been misconstrued. I know yelling per se is not bad. It shows energy, enthusiasm, and a zest for the game. That energy is good when it’s positive energy. “Come on, team!” “Hit it out of here!” Even a loud, “Hey batter, batter!” That’s was the spirit of my comments like, “I’m coming after you, meat!” “Hit it to fattie!” and “Fuck you, 29!” I’ll try to be more clear next time.
As for that play at third base, I certainly have to accept some blame. I should have read the rules more closely and understood that metal cleats are a no-no. (Honestly, though, that was buried on page three, and they should have known that the more ambitious players would have metal cleats. But I digress.) And I didn’t really need to stretch that double into a triple, especially since we were up by 10 runs. I also made the miscalculation that, because the third baseman was a girl, she’d get scared and get out of the way when I came in feet first. It was a perfect storm, a freak accident, and something I'm sure won't happen again. And believe me, I was just as relieved as you were when the doctor said he could reset her shin.
Anyway, I’m going to be taking a time-out for a couple weeks, but I promise when we have our rematch, you’ll see the other side of Larry Bonds, the side that doesn’t charge the mound when he’s hit with a slow, underhanded pitch. After all, we all want the same thing out there—to have fun!