“Oh, yeah - we’ve got time to bleed.”

In the year MMII - better known as the year XXII in the Historian’s Calendar - a great change came over the MPR softball team. Researchers have yet to determine the cause. Ecologists link it to the presence of estrogenic chemicals in the natural environment; social scientists point to seismic shifts in sex-role adaptations in a post-industrial world; vehement Midday callers are united in blaming the so-called “wuss factor.” In any event, for the first time since 1987, MPR did not field a men’s team. Instead, we fielded co-rec teams on two nights each week - and if there were any men who, on a sweltering Thursday evening, perhaps moved by a few sluggish traces of testosterone, found themselves pining for a good old drubbing on the cockeyed fields of MacMurray, they wisely kept their mouths shut. | The big story this year was injuries - the kind of spectacular injuries that get shown on Sportscenter when they happen to bigshots. Among the wounded were KT Cragg, whose collarbone was tragically snapped after just two at-bats in her rookie season; Amy Schoch, whose nose was brutally bloodied by the team manager during an ill-advised demonstration of just why she ought to get herself a bigger glove; and Tom Scheck, who, already gimped up from a dramatic sliding abrasion, had a fly ball bounce thunderously off his noggin during the final game of the year-end tournament. Add to these a veritable parade of bad backs, bum fingers, pulled hammies, sore wings, and tender groins, and it’s a wonder the team could play at all. | Yet play we did - not always gloriously, but with our trademark spirit, plenty of competitive fire, and an undeviating focus on the ultimate goal: the chalk talk. (Except for the historic night when Gary Eichten showed up at J.R. Mac’s in a full suit and everyone had already gone home. The Historian remains shocked and speechless over that one.) For the first time ever, we experienced hail during a game - which sent Suds and her beloved Mustang hightailing for parts unknown and left Gary so cold that he couldn’t operate his lighter. The 2002 season also saw Captain Jim Bickal rise to new heights of scheduling and platooning brilliance. Constantly rethinking and refining his schemes, Jim created systems that were Einsteinian in their complexity and sheer intellectual majesty, and though nobody understands them, we all stand in awe of their creator and urge him - nay, beg him in the most abject fashion - to continue his important work in the future. | The Wick? The “Talk to the Hand” woman. Best strategic advice: Jenner’s recommendation to “start scheduling for wherever the hunks are.” Team scandal: intramural purse pilferage.