The Last Stand of the Last Toucher [9.19.08]

Today's observation centered around the microcosm that is softball. Accepting my invitation to a community picnic, I found myself in the middle of a field, playing ball with the best of them. My behavior was uninhibited as I cupped my hands and screamed "We want a pitcher, not a belly itcher" toward the pitcher's mound. Apparently, many people view softball as a spectator sport because the players were few and far between. In turn, we had to rotate pitchers, catchers, and basemen in order to keep the game going. One of my friends was up to bat, so I instantly became that annoying pitcher, screechily yelling for everyone to "move on in". From my perspective, it was a harmless prank that swiftly emasculated him just enough to lose his focus and the game, but to him, it was one tease too many - an immediate invitation for him to prove his manhood to the thousands of invisible cheering fans surrounding the stadium. Unaware of his game plan, I fake spit on my hand and wound up for a curve ball. Needless to say, my pantomime merely fed his motivational fire, and I ended up hitting the deck in order to keep my appendages intact. His repressed swing sent the ball into "oblivion", a field, lost for what seemed to be an eternity, or at least for three full minutes. As I sifted through high grass and itchy vegetation, I got to thinking: Should I really be the one doing this? Is it really my fault that the ball soared over God's green earth? When did the rule of last toucher disappear? What happens when the last toucher has something to prove?