Just Perfect

They say practice makes perfect. However, judging by the results after only two practice games, perhaps they mean quite a bit of it. Not that we’re all that bad, considering the strict tryout procedure and exercise regimen required to enter the league (fill out the waiver and sign a cheque). And, to be frank, there is a long regular season that further allows us to hone our skills prior to the playoffs, whatever those skills may be. Besides, there are quite a few different levels of perfection. Ultimate perfection. The kind that gets you into Carnegie Hall. The kind that comes with years of practice, practice that begins while you are still in the womb and practice that never ends. That’s not us, we are too far removed from the womb and, although some may still strive to attain it (not a bad thing), think that time may have passed. I, myself, think Carnegie Hall looks just fine from the outside. Then there is the other end of the field, where perfection is used to describe one’s lack of character, referencing those that are perfect derrieres. Although we are a semi-fit bunch, this would not be used to describe the finesse of our physical posteriors, but rather a flaw in our character or, for some, a strength, depending whether its powers are used for good or evil. No worries, we are all far from this level of perfection and, try as some might, we can never succeed in being completely, one hundred per cent, perfect a-holes. Just not in our demeanour, our character, our genes. However, sometimes there can be joy found just in the attempt (I, for one, shall never give up trying). However, lots of practice needed to do this well, so we are back to that Carnegie Hall thing again. Even though we may not reach the highest level of perfection or succumb to its lowest (even though it can be more fun down there), we all succeed in doing a number of things perfectly well.

Most of us achieve perfection at least once during the game. Sometimes more that once. A perfect catch. A clutch hit, executed perfectly right, exactly when it is required, invariably preceded by a perfect pitch. The perfect scorer, one who knows how many innings have been played and how many runs were actually scored. OK, maybe that’s an intermittent thing, as no one has ever really perfected math. Even the ump can make those perfect calls, even if someone is always bound to disagree with the outcome. You have a perfect right to do so. Considering the other side of the coin, sometimes it is perfectly okay not to be perfect. For example, a no-hitter is a perfect game for a pitcher. Since we pitch to our own team, we do not want to exercise this kind of perfection (although some may seemingly try). Perfection is predictable, always doing the required when it is required, no surprises, no exceptions, just doing well what needs to be done when it needs to be done. How uneventful. How little fun. How boring. Thank goodness, even though we all do have good days, this is far from us. We are not professionals, we are not highly competitive (although some may try to fake it), we succumb to our flaws, we make mistakes. All for the enjoyment of others, if not ourselves. The perfect sacrifice. For instance, some of us seem perfectly adept at fielding the ball with our feet. Maybe not a wholly successful practice, but perfection is achieved by the mere spectacle it creates. You can be amusing in your lack of perfection and that is perfection in itself. Perfectly confusing. And, for those who do achieve various levels of true perfection, making that over the shoulder catch after running the length of the field, making the diving catch or extending your reach to nab one out of thin air, driving the ball out of the field or executing that double play, you are to be commended as well. A joy to behold. Perfection at its finest. Just not as amusing and your perfection is exercised only at the sacrifice of the perfection of others. Therefore, perfection may only come at the expense of the imperfection of others, so we all should have plenty of opportunities. You’re welcome. Still, all in fun. A perfect way to spend a perfect evening, among perfectly acceptable friends and neighbours. Think, at the end of the day, we’re all perfectly fine. In any event, no one needs to change a thing. You’re perfect the way you are. Enough editorializing. Apologies if I drone on senselessly. Guess I’m still perfecting my craft. On to the regular season. Have fun, enjoy it, make mistakes. It’ll be perfect.