Pool night

It was a warm San Francisco evening. The sky turned majestic orange as the sun set. As it often does now, maybe there is something with the warm air that that torches the early evening sky or maybe something with my hyperactive imagination. My rose colored glasses foresaw a festive result to last night’s pool match. How bad could it be, I thought. We beat this team 12-3 the last time we played and this time we’re playing on our turf.

We started off one player short. I begged and bribed Christine to show up. Two beers was the bribe, Amstel Light… ordering them made me cringe.

I was talking to someone before the matches about how our team controlled its own destiny. I hear this in SportsCenter a lot in reference to a team that necessitates winning the rest of its games. My thought was when we win all our remaining three games we’ll be in first place. But I was told by beer buddy that fate had been pre-determined and we’ll just have to play it out.

Hallelujah.

But I don’t buy that crap. You see, I’m an Epicurean. To believe in fate would be to the worst kind of slavery. Hogwash, I say. I believe in working hard and with a bit of good luck should make for positive results. I gave him a jovial toast, “to fate”… with a wink.

I walked away to watch my teammates play as I reached into my pocket to rub my good-luck coin. We won, again by 12-3, as fate would have it.

good night...