December 12, 2024 • 14 mins
This week we meet Larry. Lar, like crazy armed nut-jobs from sea to shining sea, owns a Bushmaster XM-15 with a Vortex Spitfire scope and plenty of ammo. All legally obtained.
It's a beautiful spring morning. Opening Day of a brand new baseball season. The sun is shining. The grass is green. The boys are ready to play ball.
But unless sanity suddenly intervenes, unlikely, it’s best to prepare for more American carnage.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:04):
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator, and author. We hear at the ten
minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
(00:25):
pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit. Mini novels on steroids.
This week we meet Larry Larr, like crazy armed nut
(00:48):
jobs from Sea to Shining Sea, owns a Bushmaster XM
fifteen with a vortex spitfirescope, and plenty of ammo, all
legally obtained. It's a beautiful spring morning, opening day of
a brand new baseball season. The sun is shining, the
(01:10):
grass is green. The boys are ready to play ball.
But unless sanity suddenly intervenes unlikely, it's best to prepare
for more American carnage playball. Larry sits in the modified
(01:36):
deer blind on the edge of the woods, just beyond
the outfield fence. More than just a platform twenty feet
up in that old oak, this deer blind has canvas
sides and a plastic roof to protect the hunter from
the elements and to better seclude him from his prey.
(02:00):
It is not deer hunting season. It is opening day
of the Triborough Little League season. The grass is green
and the sun is shining, and the banners have been hung.
The snackshack is open. Burgers and dogs on the grill.
Opening game on this spectacular Saturday features Coach Rizzo's Mad
(02:24):
Dogs against Coach Peterson's River Rats. Larry watches warm ups
through the one inch gun hole in the canvas side
that faces the field. He spots Coach Rizzo standing outside
the home team's dugout. Larry has a massive hard on
(02:46):
for coach Rizzo, has had it now for almost six years.
Longer longer if you go back to the miners. Stooge,
Yo stooge. Coach Rizzo called that very first day of
miner's practice, Larry stooge, Yo, Larry stooge. No one responded, stooge,
(03:08):
come on, is there a stooge among you? Young Heathen's
mo Larry Curly, come on, step up. Larry didn't respond.
He didn't shout here because his last name wasn't stooge.
His last name was stage. Larry Stage, Lawrence Allen. Stage.
Stage like the place where bands play and actors perform,
(03:32):
not stooge. Still the name stuck stooge. It was that
first day of Miners and Stooge. It would be right
up until his final strikeout on the last day of
Majors three terrible years later and now almost six years ago.
(03:52):
Larry hates baseball. Hates it, has always hated baseball. Stupidest
goddamn game invented. He'll tell you if you give him
half a chance. What Larry really likes to do is hunt.
He likes to track animals, ravens, bluejays, crows, squirrels, coons,
(04:13):
track them, sneak up on them, and blow them to
Kingdom Come wherever that is. Larry tries not to think
too much about why he likes to track and shoot animals,
but when he does think about it, he thinks maybe
it's because of Coach Rizzo. The way Coach Rizzo called
(04:34):
him stooge and told him he threw like a girl
and hit like a wet mop and generally had the
baseball prowess of a bluefin tuna. It was true, Larry
had a hard time judging fly balls and gathering up grounders,
and yeah, okay, he struck out just about every stinking
(04:56):
time he stepped into the batter's box. But still still
did Arizzo have to point it out, rub it in?
Did he? Ha? Did he? Ha? Huh? Although, although maybe
Larry will on occasion admit, at least to himself, maybe
the real reason he likes to kill shit is because
(05:17):
his father hits his mother and sometimes him and sometimes
his brother Hal. Well, not his brother Hal anymore, because
how last year joined the Marine Corps and is now
a big, badass corporal killing sand niggers and Baghdad and cobble.
(05:40):
I don't want to play baseball, dad, Larry said in
the car on the way home from that very first
minor league practice. He already knew he couldn't hit, and
couldn't field and couldn't throw, And now now all the
other kids on the team were calling him stooge, just
like coach Rizzo. You down, huh? You don't want to play?
(06:03):
Not really? Well, too bad, kid, I already paid for
the goddamn uniform and a bat and a new glove.
You're playing no two goddamn ways about it. Larry knew
better than to argue with his father. Arguing with his
father could lead to a backhand across the cheek, and
(06:24):
so by the following spring, when it was time to
become a major leaguer, his father and coach Rizzo had
become best buds, went hunting and killed deer and drank
beer together, which meant Larry would not only be playing
baseball again, it also meant he'd once more be suffering
(06:45):
the rising and heckling of coach Rizzo. Oh Christ, Larry,
come on, don't be such a goddamn baby, grumbled his father.
Rizzo knows the game. He knows the game. He played
double a ball for the He'll make a ballplayer out
of you. Yet, well, Larry didn't want to be a ballplayer.
(07:07):
He wanted to take the dog in the twenty two
and go out back, cross the river, into the woods
and shoot anything that moved. But nope, the old man
delivered him sad faced to coach Rizzo practice after practice,
game after stinking game, where Larry always played right field
(07:27):
and always bat at last, except once when he pitched
an inning well part of an inning, gave up six
runs on three walks, two hit batters, and the longest
homer of the season over the center field fence three
years three fucking years of dropped fly balls, errant throws, strikeouts,
(07:50):
unabated failure, and that asshole Rizzo calling him stooge. Three
years of that bullshit, and now almost six years, with
a simmering desire for revenge, he kneels in the deer
blind out in the woods beyond that same center field fence.
(08:11):
The blind is well back in the woods, at least
one hundred feet from the edge, one hundred and fifty
feet from the outfield fence, three hundred and fifty feet
from home plate. But still Larry has a clear view
of the field. He's been trimming branches for years, patiently
waiting now coach Rizzo. He has two sons, two ballplayers.
(08:36):
The older one, Ryan, is Larry's age. The younger one, Tommy,
is several years younger and so just now beginning his
baseball journey. Larry has been waiting a long time for
that journey to begin, and today Today's the day Larry,
not so long ago, purchased his Bushmaster fifteen at Gray's
(09:02):
Gun Shop over on Main Street, same shop where his
father buys all his guns and Ammo. Larry walked right
into Gray's on the day he turned eighteen and made
the purchase with no hassle at all. Said hey to
mister Gray, provided a valid driver's license, and away he
(09:23):
went with his used Bushmaster and several boxes of AMMO
in tow. Taking mister Gray's advice, Larry went with the
spear gold fifty five gram shells. Perfect, said mister Gray
for bringing down those big bucks. Now, for the past
(09:44):
few weeks, Larry has been practicing. Every morning, he drives
his old pickup out into the country to shoot miles
for many homes or businesses. He started with targets at
close range, just fifty feet or so, but with his
exceptional shooting skills learned from his father and his steady nerves,
(10:06):
he quickly pushed those targets farther and farther into the distance,
and now opening day underway, he's ready to fulfill his dreams.
He pokes the barrel of the Bushmaster through the gun
hole and presses his right eye against the vortex spitfire
(10:28):
prism scope. In an instant, those eager young ballplayers loom
just inches away heads fill the glass viewfinder. He can
see mole's eye color, even a little cut on one
kid's lip. The game begins. Things move slowly, the kids suck.
(10:48):
They're just beginning to learn to play. Lots of walks
and strikeouts and errors. In the second inning, little Tommy
Rizzo walks. The next kid hits a little squibbler down
the third baseline. Tommy moves to second Coach Rizzo coach'es third.
He stands there, clapping his hands, clapping and shouting orders,
(11:11):
just the way, just the way he always used to do.
Come on, kid, come on kid, hit the ball. Now,
come on up there to hit up there to hit.
Not the walk, not the walk, Come on, hit scores, Tommy, Tommy,
be ready, kid, be ready on contact, You're moving. Larry
watches the action through his scope. In that clear glass,
Coach Rizzo's face is as big as a full moon
(11:35):
on a dark winter's night. Larry can see the bushy
eyebrows and the bushy mustache, and the scar on his
cheek where supposedly Rizzo had gotten cut with a knife
in a bar fight years and years ago. Suddenly, the
ball contacts the metal bat. The sound echoes around the
ballfield and out into those woods beyond the center field fence. Run,
(11:59):
Tommy shouts, Rizzo, run, kid, come on run, Tommy runs,
and just before Tommy reaches third base, Larry pulls himself
taut and gently squeezes the trigger of the Bushmaster x
M fifteen, and an instant later, Coach Rizzo, his body
sprawled out, unmoving along the third baseline, shouts no more. Well,
(12:28):
that should have been the end of it, the fulfillment
of Larry's dream, But no, his adrenaline pumping and blood
now a boil, Larry keeps popping off shot after shot,
picking off kids and their panicked parents, running willy nilly
across that ball field, and in the end, six dead
and eleven wounded, enough to make the evening news, the
(12:52):
national evening news, enough to once more stop Americans in
their tracks and mutter, oh my God, not again, When,
oh when will it end? Thanks for listening to this
(13:13):
original audio presentation of Playball, narrated by the author. If
you enjoy today's story, please take a few seconds to rate, review,
and subscribe to this podcast, and then go to Thomas
William Simpson dot com for additional information about the author
(13:35):
and to view his extensive canon. The ten Minute Storyteller
is produced by Andrew Pleiglici and Josh Colodney and as
part of the Elvis Duran podcast Network in partnership with Iheartproductions.
Until next time, this is Bill Simpson, your ten minute storyteller,
Welcome to the ten Minute Storyteller. That's me Bill Simpson,
your host, narrator, and author. We hear at the ten
minute Storyteller endeavor to entertain you with tall tales or
rendered swiftly and with the utmost empathy. We pledge to
(00:25):
pack as much entertainment, emotion, and exploration into the human
condition as ten minutes will permit. Mini novels on steroids.
This week we meet Larry Larr, like crazy armed nut
(00:48):
jobs from Sea to Shining Sea, owns a Bushmaster XM
fifteen with a vortex spitfirescope, and plenty of ammo, all
legally obtained. It's a beautiful spring morning, opening day of
a brand new baseball season. The sun is shining, the
(01:10):
grass is green. The boys are ready to play ball.
But unless sanity suddenly intervenes unlikely, it's best to prepare
for more American carnage playball. Larry sits in the modified
(01:36):
deer blind on the edge of the woods, just beyond
the outfield fence. More than just a platform twenty feet
up in that old oak, this deer blind has canvas
sides and a plastic roof to protect the hunter from
the elements and to better seclude him from his prey.
(02:00):
It is not deer hunting season. It is opening day
of the Triborough Little League season. The grass is green
and the sun is shining, and the banners have been hung.
The snackshack is open. Burgers and dogs on the grill.
Opening game on this spectacular Saturday features Coach Rizzo's Mad
(02:24):
Dogs against Coach Peterson's River Rats. Larry watches warm ups
through the one inch gun hole in the canvas side
that faces the field. He spots Coach Rizzo standing outside
the home team's dugout. Larry has a massive hard on
(02:46):
for coach Rizzo, has had it now for almost six years.
Longer longer if you go back to the miners. Stooge,
Yo stooge. Coach Rizzo called that very first day of
miner's practice, Larry stooge, Yo, Larry stooge. No one responded, stooge,
(03:08):
come on, is there a stooge among you? Young Heathen's
mo Larry Curly, come on, step up. Larry didn't respond.
He didn't shout here because his last name wasn't stooge.
His last name was stage. Larry Stage, Lawrence Allen. Stage.
Stage like the place where bands play and actors perform,
(03:32):
not stooge. Still the name stuck stooge. It was that
first day of Miners and Stooge. It would be right
up until his final strikeout on the last day of
Majors three terrible years later and now almost six years ago.
(03:52):
Larry hates baseball. Hates it, has always hated baseball. Stupidest
goddamn game invented. He'll tell you if you give him
half a chance. What Larry really likes to do is hunt.
He likes to track animals, ravens, bluejays, crows, squirrels, coons,
(04:13):
track them, sneak up on them, and blow them to
Kingdom Come wherever that is. Larry tries not to think
too much about why he likes to track and shoot animals,
but when he does think about it, he thinks maybe
it's because of Coach Rizzo. The way Coach Rizzo called
(04:34):
him stooge and told him he threw like a girl
and hit like a wet mop and generally had the
baseball prowess of a bluefin tuna. It was true, Larry
had a hard time judging fly balls and gathering up grounders,
and yeah, okay, he struck out just about every stinking
(04:56):
time he stepped into the batter's box. But still still
did Arizzo have to point it out, rub it in?
Did he? Ha? Did he? Ha? Huh? Although, although maybe
Larry will on occasion admit, at least to himself, maybe
the real reason he likes to kill shit is because
(05:17):
his father hits his mother and sometimes him and sometimes
his brother Hal. Well, not his brother Hal anymore, because
how last year joined the Marine Corps and is now
a big, badass corporal killing sand niggers and Baghdad and cobble.
(05:40):
I don't want to play baseball, dad, Larry said in
the car on the way home from that very first
minor league practice. He already knew he couldn't hit, and
couldn't field and couldn't throw, And now now all the
other kids on the team were calling him stooge, just
like coach Rizzo. You down, huh? You don't want to play?
(06:03):
Not really? Well, too bad, kid, I already paid for
the goddamn uniform and a bat and a new glove.
You're playing no two goddamn ways about it. Larry knew
better than to argue with his father. Arguing with his
father could lead to a backhand across the cheek, and
(06:24):
so by the following spring, when it was time to
become a major leaguer, his father and coach Rizzo had
become best buds, went hunting and killed deer and drank
beer together, which meant Larry would not only be playing
baseball again, it also meant he'd once more be suffering
(06:45):
the rising and heckling of coach Rizzo. Oh Christ, Larry,
come on, don't be such a goddamn baby, grumbled his father.
Rizzo knows the game. He knows the game. He played
double a ball for the He'll make a ballplayer out
of you. Yet, well, Larry didn't want to be a ballplayer.
(07:07):
He wanted to take the dog in the twenty two
and go out back, cross the river, into the woods
and shoot anything that moved. But nope, the old man
delivered him sad faced to coach Rizzo practice after practice,
game after stinking game, where Larry always played right field
(07:27):
and always bat at last, except once when he pitched
an inning well part of an inning, gave up six
runs on three walks, two hit batters, and the longest
homer of the season over the center field fence three
years three fucking years of dropped fly balls, errant throws, strikeouts,
(07:50):
unabated failure, and that asshole Rizzo calling him stooge. Three
years of that bullshit, and now almost six years, with
a simmering desire for revenge, he kneels in the deer
blind out in the woods beyond that same center field fence.
(08:11):
The blind is well back in the woods, at least
one hundred feet from the edge, one hundred and fifty
feet from the outfield fence, three hundred and fifty feet
from home plate. But still Larry has a clear view
of the field. He's been trimming branches for years, patiently
waiting now coach Rizzo. He has two sons, two ballplayers.
(08:36):
The older one, Ryan, is Larry's age. The younger one, Tommy,
is several years younger and so just now beginning his
baseball journey. Larry has been waiting a long time for
that journey to begin, and today Today's the day Larry,
not so long ago, purchased his Bushmaster fifteen at Gray's
(09:02):
Gun Shop over on Main Street, same shop where his
father buys all his guns and Ammo. Larry walked right
into Gray's on the day he turned eighteen and made
the purchase with no hassle at all. Said hey to
mister Gray, provided a valid driver's license, and away he
(09:23):
went with his used Bushmaster and several boxes of AMMO
in tow. Taking mister Gray's advice, Larry went with the
spear gold fifty five gram shells. Perfect, said mister Gray
for bringing down those big bucks. Now, for the past
(09:44):
few weeks, Larry has been practicing. Every morning, he drives
his old pickup out into the country to shoot miles
for many homes or businesses. He started with targets at
close range, just fifty feet or so, but with his
exceptional shooting skills learned from his father and his steady nerves,
(10:06):
he quickly pushed those targets farther and farther into the distance,
and now opening day underway, he's ready to fulfill his dreams.
He pokes the barrel of the Bushmaster through the gun
hole and presses his right eye against the vortex spitfire
(10:28):
prism scope. In an instant, those eager young ballplayers loom
just inches away heads fill the glass viewfinder. He can
see mole's eye color, even a little cut on one
kid's lip. The game begins. Things move slowly, the kids suck.
(10:48):
They're just beginning to learn to play. Lots of walks
and strikeouts and errors. In the second inning, little Tommy
Rizzo walks. The next kid hits a little squibbler down
the third baseline. Tommy moves to second Coach Rizzo coach'es third.
He stands there, clapping his hands, clapping and shouting orders,
(11:11):
just the way, just the way he always used to do.
Come on, kid, come on kid, hit the ball. Now,
come on up there to hit up there to hit.
Not the walk, not the walk, Come on, hit scores, Tommy, Tommy,
be ready, kid, be ready on contact, You're moving. Larry
watches the action through his scope. In that clear glass,
Coach Rizzo's face is as big as a full moon
(11:35):
on a dark winter's night. Larry can see the bushy
eyebrows and the bushy mustache, and the scar on his
cheek where supposedly Rizzo had gotten cut with a knife
in a bar fight years and years ago. Suddenly, the
ball contacts the metal bat. The sound echoes around the
ballfield and out into those woods beyond the center field fence. Run,
(11:59):
Tommy shouts, Rizzo, run, kid, come on run, Tommy runs,
and just before Tommy reaches third base, Larry pulls himself
taut and gently squeezes the trigger of the Bushmaster x
M fifteen, and an instant later, Coach Rizzo, his body
sprawled out, unmoving along the third baseline, shouts no more. Well,
(12:28):
that should have been the end of it, the fulfillment
of Larry's dream, But no, his adrenaline pumping and blood
now a boil, Larry keeps popping off shot after shot,
picking off kids and their panicked parents, running willy nilly
across that ball field, and in the end, six dead
and eleven wounded, enough to make the evening news, the
(12:52):
national evening news, enough to once more stop Americans in
their tracks and mutter, oh my God, not again, When,
oh when will it end? Thanks for listening to this
(13:13):
original audio presentation of Playball, narrated by the author. If
you enjoy today's story, please take a few seconds to rate, review,
and subscribe to this podcast, and then go to Thomas
William Simpson dot com for additional information about the author
(13:35):
and to view his extensive canon. The ten Minute Storyteller
is produced by Andrew Pleiglici and Josh Colodney and as
part of the Elvis Duran podcast Network in partnership with Iheartproductions.
Until next time, this is Bill Simpson, your ten minute storyteller,
Host
Bill Simpson
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