The Geography Department’s annual softball game was held on Sunday, April 20, in Elings Park and was followed by a post-game barbecue at the home of Professor and Mrs. Keith Clarke. The following account was contributed by grad student Nate Royal who initiated the round robin style game (see how many bases you can safely reach in three touches of the ball). Nate came in a close second to Dylan, but was a “gracious” loser as you can see from the following:
Dylan at the Bat
It was mid afternoon as the players filtered onto the field, a quiet, misleading dignity about them all. The stands were sparsely populated with a few lucky spectators who were there in anticipation of good softball, but not expecting history. This would be their lucky day.
Dylan Parenti warmed up standing in the batter’s box, his form honed by years of careful workouts and a strict dieting regime of homemade pizzas. He sent the pitches afield with a casual grace–one to left field, all the way to the fences, a line drive to center, then a blooper into the gap–every hit worth a base or more, had this been an actual game.
The positions were filled after a brief 3 hour warm up. Dr. Clarke showed flashes of spatial brilliance. International sensation Laurens Bouwer made the smooth transition from games played only with the feet to one with bats and gloves. Gargi Chaudhuri wowed everyone with her fierce, unorthodox cricket swing and intimidating penchant for running around the bases with the bat. Jarad Beckman sent switch hitting, zigzagging blasts rolling to the edge of the infield. And then there was Drew Dara-Abrams, with his confident stance and rocket arm; the mysterious Anna, brought up from the minors to fill in the roster; and, of course, myself–lucky enough to witness the show from the field.
As the crowd looked up from their books, the games finally began. Round Robin was the game. Greatness was the referee. The game was two innings of stunning displays of athleticism, filled in with all the drama of Shakespeare. The scoreboard was a tight pattern of excellence, with Dylan at the lead after one inning. He led by 5, and it would have been more had it not been for two tightly played, three-error performances by myself in the outfield. I didn’t feel like I belonged with them, but I felt as if I had risen to the occasion, drawn up by the professional competitors around me.
In the final inning, age showed its strength over youth. With himself holding a slight lead, Dylan Parenti found himself at bat. His eyes were focused, his stance low and powerful. The lines of age on his face smoothed in concentration, and, at that moment on this day, he might have just resembled a man from a long time ago, a man who once possessed a department with his potential, now long since realized, and, in the twilight of his athletic career, proved he still had the look–the look of a champion to be.
As the off-speed, arcing pitch left the hands of the pitcher, there was a quiet that would only be broken by the sharp crack of a bat and an unlucky ball. Before the ball touched the earth far in the outfield, a yellow Italian blur had rounded first and was halfway to second. With the speed of a gazelle and the smooth gait of a camel, he touched third and held. He had swung and dashed his way to a victory we all should have expected, and one that he seemed always sure of.
Though we all saw it, not all of us believed it. Dylan Parenti had struck again. When the day was done, after a wonderful celebratory meal at the Clarkes’ house (where the rewards of a long softball career look as comforting as ever), we all drove off our separate ways. And where can you find our champion now? Back in his humble office, amongst us, as one of us again. We should all be so lucky to live and work so close to champions. So, next time you see Dylan in the hall, give him a hand (literally–he strained his Achilles tendon, he may need help with stairs and stuff).
By Nathaniel Royal, “witness to greatness”
Editor’s Note: Baron Edward George Earle Lytton Bulwer-Lytton was a Victorian writer whose works were prolific and popular. Today, however, his writing style is considered to be as ponderous as his name, and he has become the inspiration of the annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, in which contestants have to supply outrageous openings to imaginary novels. The contest was inspired by the infamous opening paragraph of Bulwer-Lytton’s novel, Paul Clifford: “It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.” Charles M. Schulz repeatedly pokes fun at the first phrase of the paragraph by having the lovable beagle Snoopy in Peanuts use it whenever attempting to type his novel.
