A Diatribe of Pastime

by Jerry Vilhotti


Zeus always went for the visiting team since he was still seething that the “Tea Drowners”, who didn’t want to pay their Mother Country what they owed her for her pox-infested blankets that killed off many Indian children and their parents in order to make it a more perfect world for takers, had traded his favorite limb carrier the great Babe Thunderbolt for “No No Calla La Moodon Nanette!”

“That park with winds that we call Aeolian Arrows in the bay of howling tortures falls on all heads, but this green monster is a travesty!” yelled Zeus, referring to the ballpark that invented the Little League home run years before the high-pressured league was begun for little children.

Indeed, the Boston Red Sox fig-limb carriers would have the most shots at the shortened fence over the duration of six months and making sure every inch of space became seats for the Yankee dollar made sure very few odorous balls to be caught — to become go back to your caveouts.

One dazzling piece of revenge — among many — The Great Fornicator — displayed on them was the day he had Buckeye “The Pentagon” Denter hit a Homer over the green monster to win the game and send the Yankees to the world Serious to face the other league’s winner before the owners decided to water down the great pastime; allowing fifty teams to qualify for playoff positions perpetuating the long season to almost collide with Thanksforthegiving holiday known as national turkey day.

“But what about all those other parks that cheat, too, by having short fences to accommodate their Homer hitters or banking up their infield sides to make it easier for their fleet-footed ones beat out soft ground chews?” Euphrosyne said displeased that many good fans had been saddened by the big blast — not to mention all those ballplayers who had cried in disbelieve and anguish seeing their victory snatched out of the mouth of defeat.

“Cheat? What do you mean, cheat?” Nike said feeling a little threatened that she was having to do with instilling in these particular mortals the idea that any means to victory was justified. Oh, how she loved the deviousness of it all!

“Yes, I remember one day at the house that Thunderbolt the tree-limb swinger built and all I was doing was betting on bunts — that is when the skill was still able to be done — whether the ball would stay fair or go foul and only after losing to Ares constantly with me always betting the ball would go foul but instead I noticed after eight rounds the first and third base lines had been banked up giving the Amsterdam Yankees a big advantage because they had three excellent bunters who ran like me!” Hermes said.

“There is something to that. Did you know some teams tell their ground crew people not to cut the infield grass so giving their wing-footed runners that little extra time to beat out bunts?” Poseidon said, making all the Greek gods in their box seats high in the sky turn their attention to him.

“And what about teams who have mostly, I think they call them ‘singles-hitters’ and make their fences nearly out of sight so creating spacious areas in which their balls may fall safely and at the same time frustrate their opponents’ four hundred and fifty-foot drives to be caught on warning tracks?” Thalia said excitedly.

“Hey, all you without native intelligence, what about those teams loaded with sinister-handed pull hitters? They all have right field fences not much further than three hundred feet away!” Hephaestus said firing out his words in all directions.

“Hey, who said life had to be fair? Who said that thing playing itself out on what once was virgin forest has to be fair too? It’s only a game, for Zeus’ sake!” Nike said, afraid that if all these little hills were subtracted, making for level playing fields, all would definitely affect her victories. Her precious bottom-line sacred victories. Hey, wasn’t that what it was all about? she thought looking off while squeezing her shoulders in a coquettish way to attract Jinx gods who might be attempting to make opposites happen that would tip her balance of being better than them all.


Copyright © 2006 by Jerry Vilhotti

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