Ravi Shankar said an amazing thing at this concert I just attended. He said “The first time I was in San Francisco to play music was 1933.”
1933! It seems impossible that the same guy I saw tear it up on sitar last Thursday was doing the same thing in the year that construction started on the Golden Gate Bridge and Hitler came to power in Germany.
To-shi-o and I joined a softball team organized by his coworker Mike. So it was that ‘neath the Tuesday night moonshadow of the Golden Gate Bridge we were slugging it out against Victorious Secret with twelve of our new best friends. While the opposition warmed up on the field, we set up our grill. And drank. The first inning ended with a seven run limit, the hot dogs were brown by the third, and in the fourth I fucked up my left knee breaking up a play at third base. Probably because we only had an hour to play anyway, the mercy rule was not enforced. Final score: 22-1.