Keeping Score

The New York Times recently published this article about baseball scorekeeping using pencil and paper.  It expressed many of the (oddly) fond feelings I have for the 25+ softball scorebooks in my archives.  Although I did come to appreciate scorekeeping software for it's mathematical efficiency and record keeping capacities, I still believe the pencil and paper method creates its own story.  Judy also keeps score for her teams and has been seen using something with an on/off switch in that role--as well as a pencil and book.

This is a page from our 1992 scorebook.  You can see it's well worn and a little bit beat up.  It was near the end of the season (game 21 out of 23 and a state championship).  What I've always loved about these is that you can go back and be pretty clear on the game sequence. 

I can remember the day in 1981 when Ron came into the library and asked if I was doing anything that night.  He'd love to teach me to do the softball scorebook.  We played Blue Ridge in my very first game.  Ron taught me to use a green pencil for hits and red for errors.  This made it easy to find them quickly in the book.  I began a tradition of giving away the green pencil at the end of the season to the player with the most hits. The red pencil was awarded to the player with the most errors until it began to be politically incorrect even though it was done with good humor and affection.  Ron taught me to note balls and strikes because it would help to keep me paying attention to the game.  He was right about that but mostly I think it was because he never had any idea of the count from one second to the next.  I cannot tell you how many times I reminded him of the count on a batter.  He never retained it.  Ever.

This particular game was played in Dunkirk as part of the state championship series.  The other team arrived at this field not far from a sewer plant and they were GIANTS.  Jean Valvo came to the game and gave it her best effort to say the appropriate things.  One of the players went down with an injury and Jean was rummaging in her purse for ANYTHING that might be remotely helpful.  We only scored one run in this game but it was enough to win.  On the other side of the book, the Brocton players never got further than second base in this one hitter for our pitcher.And if you look, I think you can see their pitcher was no slouch; eight of our players struck out.

Anyhow, these scorebooks are like old friends.  I attached them to a clipboard, clutched at least 4 pencils and balanced a camera around my neck.  I regularly endured muscle soreness as a result holding tight to the clipboard at the odd angle required to accommodate the physics of scorekeeping.  On at least one occasion, the old scorebooks won over a recalcitrant student who's mother was one of our best hitters.  I dug out the scorebook and used it to help make whatever the point of the lesson was and he was recalcitrant no more.

In the articel, on mand (about my age) noted that "keeping score by hand 'helps fuel my anal retentiveness.'"  Yes--what he said. 

Some experimentation to share with you

Despite the rotten week we've had, we did have a good time for the few hours that we were in the Tampa area with Kathleen and Nick last week.  We flew out on July 4th and the airports were VERY crowded--this surprised me.  But we got to their house in plenty of time to relax in their pool, have some drinks and await the evening's fireworks.  A powerful storm rolled through--they have been getting nearly as much rain as we have had lately--and the power went out for a bit.  We were worried there wouldn't be fireworks due to the weather.

Boy, were there fireworks!  They live right on a little Tampa Bay inlet so they are directly on the water.  Across the water is Sylvester Stallone's house.  Just above his house is where their fireworks go off.  That was the show we were waiting for, but all along the water's edge for about 270 degrees, there were fireworks going off.  These weren't little bottle rocket fireworks.  These were the real deal.  I've never been so close to so many fireworks!

One of my main objective on this trip was to experiment with some of the new photo techniques I've been learning and get some decent fireworks pictures.  I think I did OK for the first time especially considering that it was sprinkling and there were explosions going off on all sides.




There were almost 100 of these, but I pared it down to some of my favorites.  The house lights you can see in some of them are Sylvester's I guess.   Didn't realize my camera was peeping quite so much!  Enjoy. 

Wait! ...What? Sigh. Shake Head

Ron's memorial is tonight.  You've heard by now that our friend Ron died last week as the result of a tractor accident.  We were in Tampa visiting Nick and Kathleen and were pretty helpless to be of any use but Paula stepped in to give us a big assist for which we are very grateful. 

I don't know how to accurately describe Ron's role in our lives but the fact that  you each already know who he is speaks to the overall impact he's had on our lives.  His influence is infused in nearly every part and parcel of our daily life.  Losing that defies my ability to generate appropriate words.

Many of Ron's actions resulted in WWSS: Wait!...What?....sigh...shake head.  Some of his actions had us laughing and others could be irritating.  That's life in close proximity.  As Amy stated, it never would even throw her off to awaken in the morning to find him seated at our kitchen table having coffee.  Even if we weren't there.  Especially if we weren't there.  Our guests would have to come to terms with this other adult having complete access to our home at nearly any time of day--though most regularly about 30 minutes after he'd had his breakfast at the diner.  Then he'd make his most reliable rest stop on the way to his house...our downstairs bathroom.  Wait!  What?  Sigh.  Shake head.

One day I came home from work to find his backhoe in my yard.  He'd removed our old oil tank (yeah) and then decided we needed a garden in its place.  So he proceeded to create a garden.  And hand me the bill.  Always something discounted from Lowe's.  Wait! What?  Sigh.  Shake head.

Another time Amy tested positive for strep and was required to stay home for 2 days.  Ron was recovering from surgery and offered to stay at the house with her so I could go to work.  I accepted gratefully.  When I got home, I discovered he'd washed my kitchen floor.  Wait!  What?  Sigh.  Shake head.

Just a few days ago, he left a broken tombstone at my house.  Wait!  What?  Sigh.  Shake head.  Less said about that, the better.

And literally hundreds of similar moments filled the years since I met him 34 years ago.  It's a huge loss.  It feels like something really big came to an abrupt halt.  A way of life.  A certain work ethic.  A particular kind of community living.  My own work life.  Damn him.

 Olympics Summer party 1996

 Outer Banks 1996

 Puerto Rico 1998

 Long Island

 2001

June 15 2013 at Mudville