Ejection Report 04-29-2013

Ejection Report

Angels vs. Ranger (?)
Red vs. blue

There is some back story to the attitude and behavior of the red coach.

13 mins before the game time I was at the backstop looking across the field for My Partner. And I was approached by the blue coach asking if we were going to get the game in based on weather (?).

I was explaining that I am sure we would get started and that I was just waiting for My Partner.

The red coach approached us and began to voice complaints that the blue coach had a catcher without head gear and a short stop on the field without a hat.

I looked over and saw no catcher and explained the same to the red coach and he said the boy was out there on the field without a hat. I said the game had not started but I am sure that if the player had a hat that he would wear the hat during the game. He began to talk about some other game in which the blue coach 'got him about the sunglasses and he was going to be sure that he was going to get the coach for the hat. I told the red coach that the game had not started yet. He said that was fine that us two could politic all we wanted and he walked away again stating that we were politicking. I asked the coach not to do that or to say such things.

5 mins before the game time My Partner arrived and we began the plate meeting. I covered the ground rules asked if everyone was properly and legally equipped. They both stated affirmative and then the blue coach said that he had a player whose hat was broken (the back tensioner part). I explained that I was in contact with The League and that we could not think of a  Baseball Association rule that would prevent a player from playing without a hat and that since the hat was broken and the league knew about the broken hat That I was sure there should be no problem and that if the blue coach had an extra player on the bench that the boy should borrow a hat.

Top of the second inning 1 out with a runner on first the blue team’s pitcher made a pickoff move and the runner on first was tagged out. The red coach became irate and began to jump up and down and yell at My Partner and pantomime the tag. My Partner talked with the coach for a moment and then went to his position.

At the beginning of the bottom of the second the red coach was talking a long time to get his players on the field. I asked the coach for a pitcher and a catcher. He stated that the boys had diarrhea and he was trying to fix it. I asked again for a pitcher and a catcher. He said that catcher was getting ready; I stated that a coach should then warm up the pitcher he ignored me and continued his group huddle. A pitcher and a coach did come out to warm up. The catcher arrived and I asked the catcher to "call balls in".

At the top of the third, runner on first (unknown outs) the pitcher attempted a pick off to first and the runner was tagged out. The red coach ripped off his hat and began to jump and stomp about yelling at My Partner. The red coach then looked at me and yelled that that was "2 missed calls". I asked the batter to step out of the box and I called time. I walked up first base line towards the red coach and asked him to talk to me.

I explained that his actions were not sportsman like and that he was to stop. He said he was allowed to take his hat off because his head itched, I started to explain that he knows what he did and that everyone knows what he did and to not do that anymore. He started to walk away, I told him that we were not done talking and that I was giving him his last warning on sportsmen like conduct and any more behavior like that would put him in the parking lot.

We started to part and he yelled at me to "get down there and call strikes!" this was irrecusable and I turned and told him he was done and he was out of the game. I turned and walked back to the plate.

I observed him stand at the bleachers and he was coaching the players on the field, but since he was neither commenting on the game nor talking about past plays I was not going to keep him from watching his boy play.

The red coach approached the dark side of my vehicle and attempted to talk to me. I backed away from him while I told him we had nothing to discuss. He would not leave nor did he come around towards the back of my vehicle I again told him we had nothing to discuss and that would he please step away from my vehicle after a long awkward pause in the dark he walked away and stated I was a male private part. A mother asked my name, I gave her my full name.

There was no incident after that point

A New Baseball Story

I have not posted any baseball stories in a long while because they all are basically the same story; One team gets their asses handed to them and they bitch and complain the whole game until I either throw the coach out or I call ball game.

This weekend I scheduled 7 games. Seven games in one day, for those that know, 7 games is a VERY long day, more than 14 hours of baseball. Yeah, there is a 20 minute break in the schedule but rarely does a game end on time or start on time so there is no break except to turn in the score card, grab some baseballs and water head back out to the field.

 So Saturday in the 4th game the team that refused to practice and felt that the sport is played by complaining was doing their part to win. The coach asked why every ball call was not a strike. Seriously they wanted a pitch 4 balls off the plate and into the batter’s box called a strike. They wanted to know why a tie did not go to the runner.

"Com'on blue seriously that was a tie, and the tie always goes to the runner."

"No coach there is no “tie” in baseball. The word "tie" is not even in the rule book." "The rule reads 'the batter-runner must beat the ball to the base in order to be called safe'"

"Oh my god the catcher did not even move his glove."

"Yes you are right he did not and he is holding it 12 inches off the plate."

"Jesus Christ!" exclaiming as he is throwing his hat into the dirt. "I swear to god blue, you are doing this on purpose."

"Time!" I say holding up my hands. "Coach, please come here."

The coach walks over smirking to his peanut gallery bleachers, and gets 1 step too close to me, on purpose. I do not step back, I lean in 1 inch and say "Really? Who are you that I would care that much to do something like that to you?"

"I don’t know" he says "but you have not given us one call."

I smile "Given you a call? No one gives anybody a “call” in this game. In fact this game was already decided on Wednesday night with software."

"Wait what?" He steps back and blinks. "Already decided?"

"Yes sir" I hold my poker face. "Yeah it’s just like wrestling; baseball has been a scripted sport from the beginning."


"Now hold on coach, keep it down, all sports are scripted even the Olympics. Well except high school. obviously." 

"Fuck you!" He says looking at me like I just said something about his mom.

"Now" Placing my hand on his shoulder and slightly guiding him towards his dug out. "Here’s what I am going to do, I am not going to throw you out for cussing or for behaving like a poor sport. I am telling a secret and if you do not like it, then you should go and talk to the tournament director. Tell him what I told you and tell him that I said I felt bad about you paying your tournament fees, and that he should reimburse you, because I said you were a nice guy and should not be taken advantage of like this." we ended our short walk at the gate and my partner had already opened the gate and he passed through the gate and we shut it.

The look on his face was priceless, it was a mixture of dumb ass and 'what there is no Santa?'

As we turned to get back to the game, he called after us, "Hey blue? Are you serious?"

I turned back and looked at him with the dead pan seriousness of a reporter, "Coach, is this your first game today or your second?"

He looked even more bewildered "Our first."

I made a face resembling pain, "oops you weren't supposed to lose the first game." Sucking air through my teeth and glancing at my partner who was now smiling and facing outfield, "It was supposed to be the second game; I got the whole thing screwed up. I am very sorry; really you should go talk to the tournament director. Tell him what happened, tell him I got your two games mixed up, He will know what to do. Tell him I told you he should make it right for you."

We finished the game with a run rule, 20 run difference , (23-3) after 3 innings of baseball 1 hour and 5 mins.  That gave us a break of about 25 minutes.

My partner and I went out to our cars to change and get a drink of water.

At the cars, the tournament director and the "Umpire In Charge" walk up. "Hey ahh John," The tournament director started, "what happened on your field just now?"

Squinting into the 3:00 sun "Why what do you mean?"

 The tournament director continued, "I had the craziest conversation with the East Nicolas coach. He said you told him that all the games were rigged and that he was not supposed to lose the first game but only loose the second and you made a mistake."

"Yeah" I said, "he was acting like a jerk and making the game personal, so I told him some stuff to get him off the field."

"Why would you tell him that?"

“I dunno it seemed kinda funny and it was either be funny or be a lunatic I choose funny. Did you keep him in the office?”

“Yeah, Thanks. I do not need your craziness in the office!”

“And I do not need their craziness on the field.”

“You know you have his team at the 8:00 game? “

“So?” I said, "he was ejected you have to bar him from the next game.

"well," the UIC was now smiling, "you did not eject him so I have to let be in the next game."

“Crap!” I exclaimed.

“Exactly!” They both said with big ass, stupid smiles on their faces.

Needless to say the 8:00 game was with no events, no complaining, I do not know what the coach was thinking as he watched his team win the next game. Did he think they actually won? I have no idea. The game ended 3-2 in favor of East Nicolas and I went home.

Nigerian Spam 2

Nigerian Spam 2
 This e-mail comes from the furture.  Timeline research indicates that I will send e-mails to the past and you are 1 of 50 people that folloow through.
 You have receive this e-mail and have invested the sum of 500USD (in 10yr this becomes 800,000BTC)
 You will die shortly afterwards.
You can wrap 25 $20 in wax paper and bury it at; 502 Whipple Ft Bragg, United Emeraites of California (California).
 I cannot tell you how you die, please don’t ask.  I can tell you that your desecndants become very powerful due to your brilliant decisions.

 Bethany Gultch

Go eat a sandwich

There are evil men among us.

That’s right we have evil men here right here this very moment. They are here to question my authority.

Question my sincerity. They all ask themselves, ‘why does he get to say the things he says?’’

Tell them, ‘Because he wants to!’

That’s right bitches I want to, I do the bible research, I chose to go out and open my life and my heart in front of God and everyone.

Now you may not like some of what I have to say.

And some may not like any of what I have to say.

But damn it I have it to say!

I want to say it!

And I will not hold back because some hypersensitive Pee See whiner is going to complain.

We have been driven into a position of caring too much about how something is being said instead of what is being said.

Some things can not be prettied up. They are ugly, offensive, and not nice.

But they are the truths none the less.

If you do not like what is being said then do not listen. Make an argument against what is said. But DO NOT THINK THAT YOU CAN SHUT ME UP WITH A, “My feelings are hurt by what you said.”

Do you think that anybody cared about my feelings when my step father beat me.

Do you think that my mother mad him stop when he was caught with his pants down?

Do you think anybody cared when I ran away.

Where were the fucking whiners when the pot growing hippy in the commune started to do the same things my step father did? I DO NOT THINK THAT WAS WHAT WAS MEANT WHEN THEY TALK ABOUT THE DECADE OF FUCKING LOVE!

And where was the caring and sharing love we all must have when that fat fucker in San Francisco said he had a place for me, and turned out to be a place for those that chose to walk the street for him. Yeah the only fuckers that cared about the feelings of a 14year old boy were the salesman too fucking weak to admit they were gay and hated themselves for it too. The only feelings they wanted to take care of, was to create my own self loathing and beat me for their own fucking weakness.

Fuck them all and fuck you all with your whiner fucking ‘oh poor me and my sensibilities.’ You do not like what is said move the fuck on and fuck yourself while you’re at it!

I have learned long ago. They will not change the rules for you. They will change them for themselves. But they do not care about you. These whiners, these censors, these pussies, they do not care about my anger, they do not care about why I am angry, they only care about themselves and how they fucking feel.

If your fucking feelings are hurt and you have the right to bitch then I have the right to say what I want. You have the ability to move on. You have the ability to change how you feel. I fucking did.

So your feelings are hurt.

What about my childhood. My childhood hurts you gonna fix that?? Yeah I fucking thought so.

You know what? You all with your ‘everybody needs to be included and nobody should be offended’ attitude is way outta control. You want to muzzle my feelings and suppress my hurt for the good of yourself?


Come get some bitch. I will show you how to make your bones. And get even with your step father at the same time.

I will look into your pussy eyes and see you hurt and I promise it will not be nearly the same as mine every god damn day.

Every god damn fucking day.

Every fucking day the alarm clock wakes me up and the pain of my life comes crashing in on me. The thought that today I have to get up and chase that goddamn dollar again and there are literally hundreds of thousands of fuckwads that want to separate me from my money.

I get no reward from turning my life around.

I get no relief from the pain and guilt of my life.

I get no break from the race I am in.

I get e-mails from fucking whinny ass strangers who say that I can not say what I have to say.

You know what? You do what I have done in my life and say that you can tell me that.

You suck for a buck and then see how normal your fucking rants are.

You find a way out of the hell you are in at 15 with no fucking tools and make it to where I am today and then tell me what to fucking say and what to fucking do.

I may not be any place that is all that great but compared to where I was and what I have done with the shit that was handed to me I have done pretty fucking good for myself

You do what I have done start to finish and then you can even think that you can talk to me.

Cause right now you are just fucking noise.

Buzz buzz buzz. What an annoying fucking sound and what annoying fucking sound you make when you want to talk about somebody else to me. Fuck off

Fuck off

Eat shit and fucking die you god damn whiny little school girl.

Go make your bones, go make a life outta shit go fuck off.

Fuck you
Fuck you
Fuck you

Old Zombies Come Back To Haunt Me

For some time my son has been harassed on FB about my where a bouts and my health

To you all I have written an open letter;

You know I was a nice guy back when. I was always agreeable. Then the scene started to hit critical mass and there was 
fractioning and cliques and little drama wars.

 Then I realized, I guess I always knew, that this was no-where’s-ville this was not a sustainable life style. 

 I remember the Tales of Terror coming back from the slavery tour and being different. I remember many friends being swallowed by their

vices and addictions. I remember going to Bedrock Bill’s funeral, you all remember that? Remember how he was found and how sad and

pathetic his family looked during the viewing and the evil “kill you where stand” looks from his mother.

 I was already starting to distance myself from it all, but I think that was the clincher. That look from his mom was a monstrous weight

heaped upon me.

 I knew my mother was insane, but I also knew I did not what her to go through that.

 I left. I kept in touch with many and lost touch with many more. I became a terrible friend to all of you eventually, but it was for the

sake and sanity of me and my future family.

 I took my family to Texas without ever telling my mother where we were. That should tell you something about my privacy and protection of

my family.

 We are different from when we were then and there is a reason we lost touch. We changed and now when we are all 40+ and staring at the

horizon of our lives we try to go back, but we cannot rewind time.

 I have changed I am a mean mother fucker I hate just about every human on this god forsaken rock spiraling into the sun.

 I have come to realize humans are evil simple fact. it is amazing that we ever evolved past the fish on the beach. By all accounts we

should have eaten each other there on the beach and had been god's failed experiment.

 That said I have a couple of things to point out;

 Jeff said, “Have to say.... John was a jerk...and a pig... with his silly rotting catbones, plus the fucker chipped my tooth... could 

say more but why bother...”

 You did not rule shit you acted like to the poser fag you will always be.

 I vaguely remember you talking some shit 25 years ago about some chipped tooth and I kind of remember I was not responsible but then

again I cannot clearly state I remember the whole sorted crybaby saga but I am sure you were doing something stupid to get me to do

something to chip your tooth, but then again that is the youth and the culture of today, isn’t it? It is never your fault it is the fault

of someone else.

"It was not my fault I was arrested for drinking beer in the park, it was the fault of the Chinese guy at the liquor store or the old guy

who called the cops but clearly it is not my fault for trespassing and violating ord of the city penal code. No way, not mine, boo

fucking hoo"

 So Jeff, maybe in your little world with pink skies and purple grass, you are somebody.

 Maybe in your little world where all of your furniture is made of the scrotum skin of young men, you are important.

 You might be king shit where the maggots go to worship, you might be a prophet to the little turds in the sewer.

 But in my world you are an open festering sore on a dog’s ass. You are nothing and you do not even require a name.

 You are just simply shit, not king shit bubba douche bag. Not even bubba douche bag.


 It was Stiv Bators not Iggy Pop that served us whiskey and as far as the penis thing well I remember hearing about you touching Iggy’s

dick while I was in jail, you cheating bastard!.


 It was not Rats Ass, Boots and John. First of all Geoff hated the nick name boots. Second it was Rick W. myself  and Sam C. that got

arrested in the back of the club for damaging the ceiling and we three were taken off to the station.

 During our incarceration someone else fell through the ceiling onto the stage and another dip shit punter broke through the ceiling and

stole the ticket money thus corroborating our story that two others had fallen through and got away.

 If I offended some of you all, well I guess I did. If some wonder if I hate them, then I probably do, and if you want my e-mail then 

 But really you zombies need to leave my son alone; he does not need friends like you I should know.

 Burn in hell, you sinners, you evil tools of satan. For one day the lord will come and you all will be cast into hell and I will be there

in all my glory kicking dirt into the hole and laughing and pointing at your misery and dismay. It will be a glorious day then too for the

lord has come to take all his children home.