TIGHT LINES
SOFTBALL AND MEATLOAF AND BLUEFISH … OH, MY!
with Andrew Spencer
Amember of my dedicated fan club, who happens to be of the Notre Dame variety, recently suggested that my segues were, oftentimes, predictable. Seriously. She actually used that word. Predictable. The kiss of death. Upon being yoked with that descriptor, I wept for a few days, but eventually regained my composure long enough to sit and write again. And that got me to thinking about what it is to be predictable. Predictable is, for the grammatically non-inclined amongst us, the adjectival form of the verb "to predict." To predict is, according to my dictionary, the ability to tell what is going to happen before it happens.

PHOTO BY JILL SANDOLE The runner is safe, but not from Andrew's segues, unfortunately.

The ending of "Rudy"? Predictable.

Texas thumping USC in the 2006 Rose Bowl? Predictable.

But my segues? Anything but predictable.

Let's consider another thing that is not-so-predictable. Meatloaf, the singer, has a great song from a few years back entitled, "Paradise by the Dashboard Light." What makes the song itself unpredictable is the turn of events that takes place towards the end, namely the change of heart the narrator experiences after the brief interlude featuring New York Yankees color commentator Phil Rizzuto. And speaking of Phil Rizzuto, you know something else that's unpredictable?

Baseball.

Caught ya' looking, Bridget. But I digress. Admittedly, baseball is not my favorite way to pass the time. In fact, I've been known to compare it to watching paint dry. But when it gets down to the bottom of the ninth and things are tense, baseball has its moments when even I've been known to tune-in. And once in a blue moon - which we just experienced, ironically enough - you get an entire season that's exciting. And you know what that reminds me of?

This year's Lady Whalers softball team.

Don't blink now, Bridget, 'cause they can move pretty quickly on you. But I digress yet again. You see, this year's Lady Whalers softball team went undefeated throughout the regular season and got all the way to the semi-finals of the state tournament, which is in itself an accomplishment of mammoth proportions. It was such an amazing accomplishment, in fact, that even yours truly got into the spirit and made it to a couple of games. Yeah, I waited until things got interesting and the ladies were closing in on the culmination of their record-setting regular season, but I was there. And I gotta' tell you, friends and neighbors, the excitement was there. And you know what it reminded me of?

Fishing.

I know, I know. That segue is a gimme. But it's not quite as predictable as you might think, so pay attention.

You see, kids, softball (and its hardball counterpart) features things like strikes and catches. And if you play your cards right - or, to belabor this metaphor one more step, if you read the coach's signs right - you get the same things when you're out fishing. You cast your plug, you get a strike, you catch a fish. Mind you, that's when things go well. And for a lot of anglers recently, things have been going very well.

Striped bass seem to be everywhere - Polpis Harbor, the new cut at Esther's Island, Brant Point, all the usual suspects. And bluefish are literally everywhere, with reports from places like Great Point that are including the phrase "every cast" to describe the frequency with which anglers are pulling them in. So pick your species and wet a line. With a little luck and a little patience, you'll have dinner in no time.

And while we're on this topic of baseball, I suppose now is as good a time as any to admit that I've actually got a little Red Sox-esque streak going on at the moment in the whole fish-catching department. And I don't mean like a "Hey, I just won the World Series recently" sort of thing. It's more like a "the fates are aligning against me to keep me from actually getting any glory" sort of thing. But, just like the Red Sox, I'm due for the big one any day here, so stay tuned. I'm nothing if not persistent and, despite my profanity-riddled vows to give up fishing altogether, I'll be out there again. Don't tell anybody, but I'm all talk when it comes to empty threats.

But enough about my failures and shortcomings. Instead, let's focus on good things and successes. So to the Lady Whalers, thank you for an exciting softball season and for making a believer out of yours truly. And congratulations on all that you accomplished this year. Now get out there and start catching some fish. Just try not to do it near me. I've got enough people making me look bad as it is.

And just in case you're finding yourself in my hideous predicament of not catching any fish, just remember the words to this catchy little jingle and it'll be sure to cheer your spirits and keep you going back out there:

Send the volley cheer on high, shake down the thunder from the sky, what though the odds be great or small, Old Andrew will win over all, while his loyal readers are marching onward to victory.

I guarantee you Bridget didn't see that one

coming! I

Tight lines.