While waiting for a response to my letter to His Holiness the Pope I had cause in the week that followed to climb a mountain to seek greater wisdom from a guru with greater patience and inner peace than I. (Okay, it was more of a bump in the ground … And it was in Cloverdale. Not quite car theft country, but you can see the rebirthing yards from there.)
Perhaps a strange place in which to find a wise man, however anyone who was not on the field during our third innings is likely to have far greater patience, peace and wisdom than I have – leastways more calm than I did while tearing the infield and outfield a new one for far too “eptly” starting to play like our lowly Vic Park opponents.
I laid my questions out before me and quickly learned that the narrower the question, the narrower the answer. “How do I manage with two pitchers who seem to be transcendental and can’t make their relative position in time and space match that of the rest of the team?”
“Exactly as you have”, came back the answer.
“That’s not helpful,” our third inning defensive failures still obviously bubbling along with the disappearance of Dylan Tang and Lucas Dale.
The guru sighed as he adjusted his crossed legs. “With faith, courage and luck.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him this time, and he sighed again, “I can understand why the Pope has not written back to you. Look, faith that either a pitcher will be found from among your clubmates or that a volunteer will step forward from amongst the team, courage to believe that either or both will do as you have asked of them, and a little luck never goes astray – especially in such circumstances.”
I paused to digest this. It was true, Troy Jansen had transcendentally appeared at the crack of dawn at about the same time as Lucas had disappeared, and had done a fine job on the mound before his arm disappeared under a small hillock of errors. Tyrone Handley had then stepped forward again and had learnt a great deal about the word balk before closing his second relief appearance in as many weeks.
“We are going to need some batting on days where one of those doesn’t appear,” I suggested.
The guru nodded in reply.
“So how do I get them to hit?” I pressed.
“Make them swing the bat,” was the annoying response.
“Like Darren Maver,” I suggested, trying to be helpful this time.
“Perhaps,” the guru replied. “Although not all have the combinations of his peculiar gifts”.
“Yet,” I said out loud, thinking about Troy swinging from his heals for 4 RBI’s, Menno Van Der Lagemaat’s aggression for 3 of the same, and Tyrone collecting everything bar a home run in his quest for the cycle.
The guru nodded, “Make them swing but teach them to do it properly; it will come when it is needed.”
I looked thoughtful again, suddenly bringing to mind Tim Stivey and his two solid hits for the day.
“They have discovered they like to run,” I nodded, thinking of Matt Camerer and BJ Hall adding to their stolen base tally.
“So have you,” the guru gently chided me.
I grinned ruefully, “And paying the price for it”.
“Such is the way of the flesh,” the reply came back far too swiftly.
“I wish they would stop making errors in bunches,” I vented.
“Then stop personally contributing to them.” The reply was even faster this time.
“Hang on, that’s not helping!”
“Did you learn something?” I nodded in reply.
“Did they learn something?” I nodded again.
“Did you win?” I nodded curtly
“Did they enjoy themselves?” I could only nod again.
He sighed, “Then I think you’ll find it already has. Mind your car is still there when you go …”