Au Cochonnet Marin

“There can be little liking where there is no likeness.” Aesop

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Have you ever heard the French expression « Avoir les atomes crochus »?
It could be loosely translated as, “to have hooked atoms” (to have a lot in common with somebody).

Well, it seems that my own atoms don’t easily hook with somebody else’s molecules.
I like animals. Furry or feathery, I like them all and I am pretty sure that they like me as well. We seem to have an affinity, a spontaneous, natural liking for each other.

The same mutual affection does not seem to equally apply to people. While I almost universally fancy horses, cows, pigs, cats, dogs, chickens, ducks, etc. I find myself far pickier when it comes to humans.

We often feel sympathy for someone because of shared characteristics such as language, culture, religion, politics, sports, cuisine, a wicked sense of humor. Before committing myself I need to sense that we share some common experiences. If this link is missing, it makes a relationship much more knottier.

“I generally find an affinity with a lot of the people I play and I suppose if I didn’t feel an affinity for them then they wouldn’t be particularly good performances.” Hugo Weaving

 I agree. If I am paired with someone for a tournament, and if I feel that we are not on the same wavelength, I won’t play my best game. Similarly, if I feel a lack of cordiality on the other side I won’t play well either. I think that I am we are at our best when we perform in a friendly environment.

Men often get along with men better than they fare with women, and vice versa. It is expected; they have more in common.
Couples very often (besides sexual attraction) don’t have anything in common and this type of relationship is doomed from the beginning.

With all the goodwill in the world, I couldn’t become closely acquainted with a person who sits on the floor, eats with his hands, speaks some foreign dialect and refers to God every three minutes. Sorry about that !
My atoms don’t like to be pushed around. In order to hook with yours, they need to feel some commonality.

If you could stop mispronouncing “déjà vu”, randomly pet dogs in the street and like oysters, “I think that this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.“

Alain ?

 

Confounding the doubters, the April 9 picnic (Sausages & Lentils) long held hostage by a capricious weather, finally came to fruition.

On Saturday morning, like a mercurial diva given to unpredictable changes, Mother Nature wavered between short blue skies and hard spring showers.

This constant dithering made it very difficult for the club organizers to reach the right decision. To cancel or not to cancel the event, that was the question.
And like Ike on D-Day LPM president Christine Cragg hoped and prayed for a break in the weather. With troops massed in coastal harbors, and a large supply of food on hand, Christine cast her fate to the wind and finally resolved to go ahead.

She knew that in case of failure she would be blamed, and like Ike she kept a second message in her back pocket that read:

“Our landings in the Marin County area have failed to gain a satisfactory foothold and I have withdrawn the troops. My decision to attack at this time and place was based upon the best information available. If any blame or fault attaches to the attempt it is mine alone.”

On Sunday though, the weather held steady and the operation Sausages & Lentils was on. Unfortunately the playing field remained spongy, mushy, saturated, waterlogged, mucky, muddy, swampy… pick your term, and highly unpredictable.

Despite the adverse conditions seen on Saturday (as shown in the first pictures of my album) hardcore players decided to compete and came from all over the Bay Area. We were particularly glad to welcome (for the first time in Marin I believe) Marc Poinsignon & Co. the infamous Peninsula Pétanque gang.
Part of the celebration was also Alain Briant who with Marc, is my old partner in crime.

We were glad to see Clea Messiani and Paul Tucker from San Francisco.

Twenty-two (22) doublettes lined up for the tournament and there were:

1. J-C Etallaz & Heidi Rytter 2.Marc Di Maio & Liliane Sebban 3.Doug Colville & Noah Sonet 4.Gilbert & Wyatt 5.Louis-Jean Marsaa & Minette Etallaz 6.Mark Shirkey & Sandra Shirkey 7.Maurice S. & Sandra S. 8.J-Michel Poulnot & Rich Mendoza 9.Eric Thiebault & Eva Lofaro 10.Michel Rattaire & Suzanne 11.Evan Falcone & Bernard Rattaire 12.Albert Woodbury & Tamara Efron 13.Bernard Passemar & Kathy 14.Les Stone & Clea Messiani 15.Joe La Torre & Nancy Jencks 16.Gustave Foucher & Larry Cragg 17.Jacques Rattaire & Liza Moran 18.Alain Briant & Teri Thiebault 19.David Lindsay & Mark P. 20.Noel Marcovecchio & J-C Etallaz 21.Brigitte Moran & Christina 22.Alain Efron & Mireille Di Maio

The weather was OK but on the frigid side. The smart players wore layers of clothes and peeled them off as the temperature slowly rose. A great salute by the way to Verena Rytter and Liv Kraft for keeping scores in a less than comfortable situation.

The lunch was prepared by Mattei Inc. (Sabine and Roger Mattei) and it was very good. And eating outdoors among friends always makes it doubly pleasurable. Than you Roger, Sabine… and my good pal César.
In my book, canines are always welcome.

Four games were played after lunch.
As I previously mentioned it, the spongy field made games unusually difficult. It was basically a game of “plombés” and “au fer” shots. And “plombés” had to be accurate, for the boule would hit the ground and buried itself in the place it landed.
When it came to shooting, the only option was “au fer”. If you shot “a la raspaille” your boule would roll and bounce over the target.

A few times during the tournament Michel Rattaire (a very good player by the way) would take his faithful “clairon” (bugle) and sound “reveille”. Everybody (especially me) loved it. We need to steal this guy and retain him on a permanent basis.

At the end of the day, the top dogs were:

1^st place: Jean-Michel (Le Facteur) and Rich Mendoza
2^nd place: Doug Colville & Noah Sonet
3^rd place: Marc Di Maio & Liliane Sebban

Alain

Your comments are welcome.

PS: To look at photos of this event and listen to the accompanying music, turn your computer’s sound on and click on the link “My Photos” located on the right side of the home page. For best viewing, go “Full Screen”.

The only mystery in life is why the kamikaze pilots wore helmets. Al McGuire

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I will never praise enough the protective and curative properties of laughter.
More than anything else, a good sense of humor is the quality that you wish the good fairy would bestow on your cradle.
It will be your survival kit, your shield, your flak jacket against the vicissitudes of life.

Never mind beauty; it is fleeting.
Never mind thoughtfulness; it is for wimps.
Never mind charisma; unless you run for office or aim for the papacy.

Humor is what attracts the girls, protects you from bullies and will give you a pass to the best venues in the world. It is Scheherazade Redux. It will give you at least 1000 days to extricate yourself from the toughest spots.

Humor allows you to take the edge off of once taboo subjects such as sex, religion and politics and make it palatable to the self-righteous crowds. You can almost say anything if you season it properly with giggling spices.

Laughter is welcome by most but feared by autocrats and religious zealots. For it is a difficult foe. Attacking laughter is a cardinal sin. It is like bashing Santa Claus. Unthinkable! Inconceivable!

The only effective weapon against laughter is kryptonite. And kryptonite, ardently pursued by bullies of all kinds, is extremely rare and hard to find. So, no matter what, the day belongs to the one that leaves you laughing.

There is one only one taboo against laughter. You cannot laugh at the expense of the weak or defenseless. It would be like killing baby seals. Absolutely detestable.
Except for that, nothing and nobody is off-limits.

Ruffle your constituents’ feathers and it the constituents’ duty to fight back by laughing at the offender, regardless of his rank and regardless of his wealth.

Eat, drink and be merry for nobody knows what tomorrow will be.

Alain ?