REAL BASEBALL! Pleasanton 6, Nogales 3

My friends, today we had a ballgame! And once again you will forgive this indulgence of mine, because today I saw a great game of baseball!

I arrived late in the bottom of the 1st inning and Pleasanton had already scored one run against Nogales, AZ, representing the West. They went on to score one more run that inning, and leaving Nogales scorless through three, scored a run in the second and the third innings.

Pleasanton's base stealing again was on full display tonight, taking advantage of every opportunity. Double steals from 1st and 2nd happened in the bottom of the 3rd with one of those making it to home plate on a single hit.

Nogales decided to play in the top of the 4th. But not before Pleasanton's second baseman robbed Nogales of a solid double on a spectacular diving catch between second and first base. But Nogales showed that they could steal bases as well, showing a double steal of 2nd and 3rd bases simultaneously.

About that time a man named Roger walked up and we began bantering about baseball, about the A's loss today (durn it!) and together we stood behind center field and saw the rest of the game together.

Arizona scored two runs in the top of the fourth.

In the bottom of the 4th we saw a lead off double by Pleasanton, and a single brought that runner home. Then, with runners on first and second, an intent walk loaded the bases, with two out. The next batter K'd and Pleasanton left three.

Top of the 5th, Nogales went down one, two three, and Pleasanton scored a run with one out on a stand up double in the bottom of the 5th. Score was 6-2 Pleasanton at this point.

In the top of the 6th, Pleasanton pitched a base hit, a stand up double and a scored run, getting Nogales back in the game only down by three. With one of Arizona's best hitters coming up, there was a confab at the mound (I suppose they might have been sacrificing a chicken... do they have any players from Santo Domingo in Pleasanton?) They walked the hitter, loading the bases making for some tense moments for Pleasanton fans. But the next batter up K'd, which brought up the Nogales Catcher. He flies out, but one run came in and Pleasanton flubbed a pickle situation between second and third base. The next batter K'd and the inning was over.

The bottom of the 6th inning ended with bases loaded, two out. This time it was Nogales having a convention at the pitcher's mound... but the next Pleasanton batter grounded out, and we went to the top of the 7th.

With two out, Arizona got a solid base hit, and either an error or a balk (not sure, couldn't see it) resulted in the runner at first being awarded second base. The last Nogales batter flew out, and the game was over just as the clock hit 8pm, having run six innings and a solid two hour game.

Okay... again, it has not a damn thing to do with being homeless... but a shout out to Officer Williams who stopped me on El Caminito after the game. He saw my bike, loaded down as it is... for the first time? Really? Nice enough guy. First time we've met, I think.

Anyway, the boys in blue from Pleasanton once again showed they really can play baseball!

By the way, the website for this series is here: http://intermediateworldseries.org/

Pleasanton will play again in game 12 on Friday at 3PM. Be there! Support our local boys!

Four and a Half Innings of Utter Bliss...

Free events are so very cool... you know why? I can afford them!

Yeah, this has not a damn thing to do with homelessness, but you'll forgive an indulgence...

This evening, White Sox fan Ricky and his grouchy A's fan friend (me) hit Max Bear Park (between Murdell and El Padro just off Concannon) and watched California District 57 (aka Pleasanton Little League) TROUNCE the boys from Central Division.

It's the Little League World Series (Intermediate Division) and it's being held right here in Livermore! Can you dig it? World Class Baseball in Livermore!

The place was pretty packed. Ricky and I sat on the edge of left field all the way in back. But it was still a pretty good view of the game. Behind us sat a guy with two boys who obviously knew his baseball (he's an Athletic's Fan, heh... and I'm probably the least Baseball Savvy Athletics fan I know).

Before the game started we got to see the boys warm up. Pleasanton's Pitcher was in the Bull Pen throwing heaters that looked like they had to hurt to catch, while the Central Division boys were not exactly in fine form on the field. They reminded me a little of how the Bad News Bears looked in the beginning of the movie.

Be that as it may, the boys from Pleasanton came to play Baseball, even if the other team did not. In less than sixty pitches, and four and a half innings, it was a 12-0 no hitter that lasted a little over an hour and a half.

But, you want to know something? Neither Ricky nor I have been to a game this year. It was our first game to see, and we got to see a team of local kids with a lot of heart do a heck of a job on the field. And the solo homer in the bottom of the fourth landed less than ten feet away from where we sat.

We're going back to watch these boys play tomorrow at six, when they'll take the field against the boys from Nogales, Arizona!

Just a warning, AZ, our boys came to play!

And maybe the A's will do better tomorrow than they did tonight... oh crap, they're facing Knuckleballer R.A. Dickie! Well, at least we have the Mutant Walrus (Colon) on the mound... but that'll be all over by the time Ricky and I get to Max Bear Park... I may have to console myself again by watching a truly great team in person...

Free Money From Your Pocket

This image is making the rounds on Facebook. I'm not on welfare of any sort. I don't need it. I have to tell you that I was on Foodstamps up to January of 2012, but I had a glorious day when I walked into the Multi Service Centre on Pacific, cancelled my account with them and cut up my EBT Card. Haven't had one since, and, thankfully, won't need to get one.

I don't know what the policy is now, but it used to be that in order to get General Assistance (GA), you had to do community service work. I was on that for a short period of time, and that was fine. I did my 20 hours of community service and received a grand total of: $28 a month... that's $1.40 an hour.

I have no idea why I had to work so much for so little. I didn't bother to ask. Originally, I thought I was working both for Foodstamps and GA with my 20 hours a month... but no, I was only working for GA... I haven't truly bothered to go ask. I'm not particularly interested. I'm sure if I did ask I'd be as disgusted with the answer as I am with seeing a host of Illegal Aliens at the Multi Service Centre getting their Foodstamps and GA...

I've mentioned I just got a job. Love my job. I honestly do! It's $8 an hour, and I don't get too many hours, but I honestly love the work I do and Bosslady has a whole lot to do with that.

Last Thursday Bosslady comes up to me and tells me “I need your SSN card by Monday or I have to terminate you.” Oh! Crap! Hadn't had one for 30 years. My VA Card has my SSN on it, so I always used that, and everyone accepted it. Nope, not this time! So I managed to get my rear end over to the Hayward Social Security Office (thank you so much Angela, for getting me there) and got the card. Problem solved. I get to keep this job! It gets me up in the morning...

Anyway, so I'm on FB doing my Mea Culpa on my bad behaviour (last blog) and I see this image posted by one of my FB friends.

Work for Welfare... why the hell not?

Seriously, most homeless people have EBT Cards. They do! And they use them as a form of currency. I've seen people trade EBT purchases for Booze, Cigarettes and Cash at a rate of $2 EBT to $1 in cash. Last I checked a single man got $200 on his EBT a month. It might be more now, but that was what I got when I had it. That's about 20 hours worth of work at $10 an hour.

So: my fellow Livermorons, you have all these people out on the streets who have little or nothing to do... what if we were allowed to put them to work?

And there are things that do not get done that need getting done! Have you been in any of our parks lately? Not to be a jerk to you guys, but LARPD: you don't do a lot of cigarette butt policing! Your parks are full of them. (Smokers, do us all a favour, and stop throwing your damn cigarette butts all over the place. Learn how to field strip them or something...)

If only you got these homeless guys together, had them police Cigarette butts say five hours a week... how much would that help clean up the parks? Homeless people sleep in them, why not help clean them?

I'm sure there are a whole lot of other ideas out there. I'm just some idiot with a computer keyboard, I can't be expected to tax my brain thinking of them all... But then, the City Employee Unions might have a thing or two to say about it... screw their over-paid, under-worked selves... (I have no sympathy for you people who drive up the cost of living for the rest of us, I truly do not! You're a big part of the reason the Homeless problem is as bad as it is!)

I can't blame my fellow homeless for going and getting themselves an EBT Card and GA if they can. When we're feeding and clothing Illegal Aliens and people who have never paid dime one in taxes, why the hell not?

But I have a message to all you taxpaying residents of Livermore who like to point the finger at Cornerstone and Vineyard and Open Heart and the Livermore Homeless Refuge. These operations do not cause homelessness, and they do not invite the homeless into Livermore. Your friendly Neighbourhood Government does through it's “good intentions” paid for with your money. Money that those on welfare get mostly for free, and believe themselves entitled...

I Dun A Ba-a-ad Thing...

Homelessness for Stupid People

The foibles of the most pampered homeless population in the Bay Area...

I went over to a friend's home yesterday evening to pick up the bike he wanted to donate to the Serve the City Project. That's Cornerstone Church's homeless mission, by the way. Walked there, rode it back. It was in pretty good shape, though needed some adjustment on the deraileurs, but mostly very nice. I stashed my own wheels and rode that to Vineyard Christian Fellowship this morning. Before you call me on this: Damnit Christian, you said you weren't going to get to Vineyard anymore! You're working! Well... my bad... I still have my job, but it's Tuesday through Saturday and I when I wrote “To Take a Shower” I wasn't aware of that... even so, the issue there was mostly about guys who work and simply cannot get to showers at all. But I digress.

Anyway, I hadn't been at Vineyard for some time, and it was nice to see a lot of the folks there.

K-Mark (Mark with a K...), Denny, Annie, Quiet Max...

Quiet Max is a young kid who is very quiet. Lot of experience behind those dark eyes. He's a guy who's story I'd like to hear someday. He's seeing the daughter of a friend of mine, Vince. Haven't seen Vince in a while, but Max tells me he's doing just fine where he's at. Vince's Daughter, and Max's GF is this pretty little fireball of a girl, exactly the opposite of Max. Though, like a lot of young homeless, they're very guarded, and take a lot of time to trust people. Smart, actually. I think I've mentioned that.

Bicycle Brian was there this morning as well. He was working on different people's bikes, and did take a look at the one I brought in for my friend. Some of the good news happening there is that Brian and Mickey Kundert (the bosslady of this mission) are getting together to make Brian's services available weekly on Mondays. Brian would be working on donated bikes (which often are in pretty bad shape) and doing some of the maintenance on those in use that need it... of which there are lots! Brian made a point of mentioning he'd need a spot for his parts-stash. That looks like it'll come together.

And guess what, everyone there this morning was on their best behaviour! Well... almost everyone... everyone that is, except... ME... :)

I arrived just after seven, walked in the door, and Rick (Mickey's husband) was there by himself. The tables and chairs weren't set up yet, so I began digging them out just as John arrived, and he started grabbing stuff and the three of us set up.

So I asked “What... no Princess Paul today?”

“Oh, he's in the Shower already...” Shower Nazi Doug told me. Go figure. Shower Nazi Doug had been setting up the towels and other hygiene paraphernalia for the multitudes that would arrive today (I didn't do a count, but by the time I left just after ten, it looked like the shower list had about fifty on it).

Princess Paul was already in the shower. Had to be first, didn't bother helping Rick set up... but that's Paul.

I grabbed a napkin and scrawled on it “Reserved for Princess Paul” and placed it on his customary seat... and continued to help out...

I met Paul for the first time in December of last year when he showed up at the Warming Centre. He was talkative with everyone, expressing opinions mostly, talking conspiracy. It wasn't long before he began telling Bob and Donna McKenzie the things they should be doing. In fact, there wasn't a volunteer who met him to whom Paul didn't express an opinion on how things could be made better. He'd never, of course, bother acting on these things, showing people how things could be better, but he certainly knew what he was talking about, and made that perfectly clear.

I've mentioned this before, but I'll do it again. At the Warming Centre, after Lights Out, you don't move around, you stay at your sleeping station, try and sleep, unless you need to use the bathroom. You don't talk, you don't eat. Snoring, however, is a fact of life. You live with it.

Paul would get up, walk around, sit in a chair and stare at people... can't tell you how creepy this was.

He also built a gloriously thick bed. I have no clue how many blankets, mattresses and sleeping bags he'd stack up, but the bed he made reminded everyone so much of the Princess and the Pea fairy tale that he earned his nickname: Princess Paul.

When Paul started waking people up for snoring, that was when he alienated everyone. He shook me awake once (only once for me, but others got it several times). The most egregious incident was when he woke Frank up twice in one night. Frank works 10-14 hour days. Paul was finished after that. If he had not disappeared he'd have been told to leave.

But in the last few months his presence has been a reminder of past annoyances... well, his presence and his lack of effort and sense of entitlement...

So I left that little note on his chair... my bad... smack me, beat me up... I simply could not help it...

When he came out of the shower, he arrived at his chair, found the Napkin-Placard and lost it! He crumpled it up, and threw it at me.

Now, I can't remember precisely what it was he said, but the fury in his eyes was evident.

Yes, I laughed. I found this very funny. And you know, Princess, if you would grow a sense of humour...

Have I mentioned I don't trust anyone who can't laugh at themselves?

Yes, I was a very, very bad boy this morning... I'm sooo (not) sorry...

The Day of the Dove

“How are you?” I asked Kamy as I passed her in the Gallery Hallway at the Livermore Public Library.

“I am doing good!” Kamy said...

This is Kamy... yes, I AM OMELETTE Kamy!

“And I am very hopeful for the future,” she went on to say. She was smiling a broad, genuine smile. The kind of smile that someone wears who is genuinely happy in that moment.

I hugged her... not like me to get this excited, but I couldn't help it.

The thought ran through my head “who are you and what have you done with Kamy?” Not that I said it, but there it was...

“What is happening in your life?” I asked her. “What's changed?”

“I found a dove,” Kamy told me.

Kamy told me about a dove she'd found next to her car (which she still has) with a broken wing. Her first instinct was to take it to a vet, but she, of course, could not afford to do any such thing. She went on to describe all the things she had since learned about doves. She learned how to nurse it back to health. She learned how to feed it. She learned that they mate for life. And now, she complains, the dove is flying all over her room pooping all over the place... it's a terrible mess, but Kamy loves the dove, which she genuinely believes is a gift from God.

I was having a conversation today, about an hour before I ran into Kamy, with a new friend who is studying to be a doctor. He'll be taking his boards very soon, and I probably won't see very much of him after that. We ran through all kinds of topics regarding life, love and purpose, and one of the things we seemed to agree on is that when a man has a sense of purpose, he can accomplish great things. Where do most men get their sense of purpose from? I'm sure fathers get it from their children, I wouldn't know, not having had any.

But we agreed that men get a sense of purpose from a woman. Interesting, is it not, that men who are married tend to be wealthier than men who are not? You could read all kinds of things into that, I'm sure... but I like to think that a woman motivates a man... I've known more than one homeless man who's former lover's or wife's rejection was instrumental in his life crashing into oblivion. My late friend Richard Fincus comes to mind. He was estranged from his ex wife and separated from his adult daughters. When he spoke of them to me, he glowed. Talking about them made him happy, but it was a fleeting high for him. After doing so he would go into a melancholy state only alleviated with drink and false cheer. I think Smokey Robinson was thinking of Richard when he wrote “Tears of a Clown.”

I do not recommend a homeless man seek female companionship to give him purpose. That's a fool's errand and doomed to failure. The kind of women available to a homeless man are... well, you ever look for a needle in a haystack? Not bloody likely to find one, and when you do... no, let's not go there...

One of the things I'd truly like to talk about with my new friend, the future doctor, is this: where would a man find purpose without the benefit of female companionship? What is that special formula that will give the man that purpose to be successful... or dig himself out of a hole such as homelessness?

I'm talking about men for this reason: most homeless people I know are men. And most... maybe all of the homeless men I know seem to have a lack of purpose. Of course this may be only my own perception, I've been wrong before, and I will be wrong again.

But, purpose, real purpose, could be part of the solution for a good number of the homeless out there.

I have no answers as to how to prescribe purpose to anyone. I have enough trouble finding my own purpose, much less anyone else's.

But, just so all of you know, I could not be more proud of Kamy. She's truly turning her life around, and finding purpose welling up inside... it was an absolute joy to speak with her this evening. It made my week... all because of a dove...

Cruel to be Kind...

Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind... in the right measure... was that a song?

Have you ever had a friend that stank? And I mean REEKED! Did you grit and bear it, and not say anything for fear of offending him or her?

I say this as I stink of cigarette smoke. Excuse me while I pop and Altoids...

Thankfully, my young friend Jackie is forward enough to let me know when my breath is bad. I've told her repeatedly how much I appreciate it when she does. It's important for anyone, not just the homeless, to understand when they're making a bad impression on people around them. One of the worst things you can do to people around you is offend their noses.

I had to tell my friend Kyle today to get his rear end over to Asbury, get a shower, get a change of clothing and shave his face. This morning I had to tell him he was scaring people, which he has been.

I don't know what's wrong with Kyle. Was it drugs? Is it some form of mental illness or is it a combination of the two?

Like most people who know Kyle, I think of him as a big, playful, dumb, black lab. (Kyle's been told this, and he's fine with it, by the way). All play, no cares. But when he's chastised on any level, he feels it deeply. I've had to do that several times in the last few days. I wish I knew what was going on with him, but I have no way of knowing unless he gives me some hints. He's not hinting... yet...

Keeping Kyle's behaviour in check has been difficult of late. Another man who washes the police cars for the LPD was terrorized by Kyle the other day. Kyle scared the bejeezus out of the poor man who has issues of his own. I was fortunate enough to speak with him afterwards and find this out directly from him so I could speak with Kyle.

In case you mistake me, I tend to write pretty much the same way I speak. I try not to pull punches. I'd rather be completely up front and honest and say what I mean and mean what I say. What you're reading is pretty much what you get. With Kyle, this is necessary or the point does not get across.

Kyle's deeper issues notwithstanding, I like Kyle. He's a good guy for the most part, and I don't believe he means to cause the trouble he does. Nobody outside his family can help him solve his issues, but those of us around him CAN help him cope and not be a problem for those around him. Perhaps this is like putting a bandaid on a gaping wound, but it's the best we can do. Being perfectly honest, consistent and, at times, harsh is part of it. We laugh with him when he's funny. We laugh at him when he screws up. We know he's a good guy because he can laugh at himself!

Just an aside, I've learned not to trust anyone who cannot laugh at themselves. It's probably the biggest hint about your trustworthiness. Not always, but often enough...

My philosophy on how I deal with Kyle, and those like Kyle, is this: it is far more cruel a thing to say nothing and allow them to continue making these mistakes, and I hope that those around me who consider me a friend will not hesitate to show me the same.

I have a, well, a former friend, who began shunning me several months ago. Whenever I approached her about it, she swore I was imagining things. I've since given up, and I suppose that's what she wanted, but it caused me a great deal of anguish trying to understand what it was I did that was so offensive. I'll never know. I see this as an intensely hostile and cruel thing to do to anyone. My experience with this former friend has served to re-enforce my attitude regarding being up front with people.

I've blogged before about politeness and how horrible a thing I think it is. I believe most people think being polite and having manners are the same thing. They are not. Having manners means you make sure your actions do not stifle those around you. It's good manners, for instance, not to stink. It's good manners not to make a mess or to clean up after yourself. It's good manners to offer to help someone struggling. Being polite seems to be more about evasion than human connection. A polite person, for instance, would never tell Kyle he was stinking so bad people have to leave the room... (and in a business setting, this is bad, bad, bad! It wasn't just people, they were customers!)

Politeness sucks. Sorry, it does!

So, folks, please be honest with your friends about what they're doing and how they're affecting others! If you don't, you're being very, very cruel!

Living Out of a Bicycle

“Nobody's interested in who stole who's bike,” some poster commented on one of my blogs.

Nobody? Well, maybe nobody who lives with a roof over his head. But if you're homeless, a bicycle is quite a valuable commodity. If you have a decent one, and not just any old beater given you for free, you protect it as best you can. Even if it's a beater, it might be irreplaceable, at least in the short term.

For people like my friend Ricky and me, our bikes have become more than just transportation. They're also mules. A means, by which, we carry everything we have. I'm proud of Ricky. It took him a while to get himself set up, but he eventually did. Now, instead of having to lug four backpacks everywhere he goes, he has one he keeps with him and three mounted on his bike. Oh, by the way, I'm proud of me too for selling Ricky on the idea...

His bike is a beater.

Mine is not.

I bought mine a year ago last January in lieu of buying a van. That was the original plan when I went to work driving. I would buy a van, and live in that. But I wasn't making enough. Any van I looked at that would be worth having would cost me in excess of $6,000 unless I was willing to go out of state to get it. The option to do that, working as much and as long hours as I was, simply wasn't viable.

You'll laugh at me and say: “But you weren't paying rent! You should have saved a lot!”

Well... I did save a lot. But it's not as cheap as you might expect, being homeless and having a full time job. (My current job is part time, which suits me just fine for now).

You have to make arrangements for showers. Food is a problem, and out on the road, you mostly have to eat fast food. You have no way to cook for yourself. So, you end up spending a full hour of your day's wages, at least, just on food! That's 1/8^th of your paycheck!

I had been working two months when I could finally afford to outfit my bike. I was so sick of walking and carrying everything everywhere... I was ready!

So, I walked into Livermore Cyclery and picked out a Trek 7100. Why that one? It was the cheapest one with front shocks I could find in the shop. It also had 700c wheels (as opposed to 26” wheels). Now, these are 700x35mm rims. That's important because, when you ride a lot, you get a lot of flats. I'm no stranger to flat tires. Happens all the time. With 700x35mm wheels the tires almost fall off when it goes flat. And they go back on just as easy. Not so with skinny racing tires or any 26” wheels. I don't need special tools to get the thing off, just a patch kit and a pump to fix the flat.

I tie my sleeping bag to my handle bars. It's a Coleman with shoe string ties. Was a pain in the rear at first to get tight enough, but it didn't take me too long to learn. I can have my sleeping gear out, set up, then stowed and mounted in less than ten minutes. When one of Livermore's finest tells me I have to move, that makes it a whole lot easier, rest assured.

When I purchased my bike, I already knew you could get special racks for the front end. I had to special order those. The guys at Livermore Cyclery mounted all of them for me, of course. I just didn't have the tools at the time. It took a little over a week to ge the front racks, but I road out of the store with my back rack and bags mounted.

I have to say this, however. The guys at Livermore Cyclery tried to tell me that front bags were a bad idea. I was better off with a trailer.

Wrong!

Never let anyone tell you this. A trailer replaces back bags, not front ones. There is virtually no weight on the front of your bike when you're under weigh with front bags. There's so much torque when I take off front a standing stop that my front wheel still comes off the ground even with the bags on it. That's where I keep all my clean cloths, by the way. I keep other stuff in the back bags, including the two blankets I use for pads, the tarp I put on the ground in winter (against the cold ground). Tools, and miscellaneous gear.

The stress from the bags all ends up on the back wheel. I've had to replace spokes there. Oh, and never, EVER use one of those wheel sleeve bike racks when you have bags. You will break spokes in them!

The bags and racks are worth more than the bike itself. I spent $650 just on those. The bike cost $450 at the time, all of it brand new.

80lbs of bike. People ask me sometimes if it's difficult to balance. Nope. It rides like a heavy bike. And I can get the thing up to a nice clip if I'm not facing a head wind.

There have been three attempts by thieves to steal it. Imagine, Attempted Bicycle Theft! Failed attempts. The first time I might have lost it. It was serendipity that I did not. I was visiting a friend who lived in an apartment complex in town, and my friend suddenly noticed my bike was no longer where I'd left it. I ran out of the apartment and found it, in pieces. The tools I had, by then, accumulated were gone. Some other minor items. But I was lucky enough not to have lost it...

I did, however, lose it. I was screaming obscenities at the top of my lungs. I'd never felt so violated.

I've spoken of the other two instances. Both times were by a well known thief and methhead named Leonard Mooney. He did not, of course, succeed because I watch it like I hawk if there's any danger of people making off with it.

I now am secure enough in my job to ride it to work again. Confident that Bosslady likes me enough that when (not if) she figure's out I'm homeless it won't mean automatic termination. So I'm putting more miles on it than I had been in the last few months. Feels good...

But the next time I talk about a homeless man losing his bike due to theft or whatever else... that's about equivalent someone burning down your house... just so you know.