Journal of a marginalized white male &trade: Sex and sports By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

Sex and sports
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

Baseball is a seduction sport. The pitcher is there on the mound and he wants to get it in, but he does not want the batter to hit it either so he teases and tantalizes out and about the edges just barely there but not enough and then he slips it in real quick like, and the batter thinks “Yeah I liked that, that was nice but I can not let you in there again, let me see that one more time.”
And then the pitcher teases some more, sliding around the edges maybe getting a peek in at the top and the batter likes that too but he was thinking too much about the last one and he misses the opportunity to stop the ball. And then pitcher goes to close the deal, and scratch the itch and puts it in again and this time the batter’s head is on straighter and he sees the pitch as it is and he times his stroke and pokes the ball. The ball is now out and loose and the fielder wants a piece of the action and he scoops the ball cradles the ball, but see he does not get six tries to get his, and he only has one chance so his aim has to be true and he sends the ball to first. The batter-runner is fast though and he gets to the base first with enough momentum to get the safe call. Now the batter-runner has two partners that he gets to tease and finesse. Mostly he gets the face time with the catcher and the back side of the pitcher and he tries to sneak it over to the next base. And now he teases the pitcher and the catcher. The pitcher knows what the runner is up to but he can not see him, and as the runner slides over and closer, over and closer until he out there and he is on the freaking edge and about to pop. The pitcher throws back to try and the get the one that got away. The runner lies out and he sticks his fingers on the bag as the ball is brought down. It is all about the ball touch and the touching the ball. The ball has the magic, the ball has the juice, it has the finite power of yes or no. ahh or ha, shit or fuck yeah. It is all about the ball.

Basketball is drunken sex. Up and down the court like prom dates in the backseat of a car or two bar flies late after closing, looking for fleeting moments of acceptance, passing back and forth clumsy fouls against each other, arms and hands and knees in the way, up and down, back and forth, they jostle and push, press and release, the ball goes in but it is more about how much time they have together then how many times the ball goes in. They both know the ball is going in and they both know that they just want to keep it close until the last five minutes because at the last five minutes then they know the deal is about to close the door is going to shut the sun is going to rise and the date will be over the buzz will be gone and they will have to look at each other and wonder if it was more for them or more for the other. They know that one has to get the most out of the interaction, but who and they throw in more to get the most and at the end they know it is over and they are spent and they look to see who got it the most who was the exercise for really.

Football is date rape both knew that sex was on the agenda both knew that the other wanted to score but each thought they were the one that got to call the shots but thought they were going to be in charge and say when. One knew the other was stronger. One knew the other wanted to score. But in the end the one that scored was the more brutal stronger faster beast. Two animals, one goal, it is just a matter of who got there first and beat the other one into submission. Plowing and driving down the field to the goal. Pushing the ball over the line and into the zone for a goal score and team rejoices and gets stronger for it and the other tries to get stronger tries to clear its defenses and goes back in for another go around. And so it goes round and round and round until one team is done, spent, and whipped while the other team victorious, winners, and champions . Jubilation and excitement is palatable on one side of the field, while shame disgust and defeat is on the other. Plans to repeat the victory is on the minds of the winner and revenge is on the mind of the loser.

Golf is masturbation you are out there alone with your stick and your ball you poke around trying to get it in the little hole and the only person you are trying to finesse and tease is yourself. In the end it is your best you are trying to change it is your score from the last time you were alone you are trying to best. I get it, I do it from time to time but in the end I would like a good game of baseball over a game of golf.