CAUTION: My humorous analogies include spoilers for the Lost season finale.
After yet another rain delay (can someone investigate this new phenomenon of “global wetting”, please?), our stalwart squad returned to hay-strewn Momma Johnson Park for the second game of our protracted spring season.
It was ironic that Lost aired its fifth season finale on the same night; just as on mysterious Dharma Island, our night was filled with tension, reversals of fortune, and a stunning conclusion.
We rolled in thirteen deep last night, including Stacy, who is still on the DL from her dodgeball injury. We started strong against our opponents, who were familiar foes from last season. Their name was something like “Karen Dropped Her Pants”. Penalty: team names can not be full sentences. In any event, we were leading The Sentences 2 – 0 after the first. Our lead wouldn’t hold for long. Our defense fell apart in the second, due to slippery ground and even more slippery hands (Note: Batting gloves are not the answer). Going into the third, we were trailing 4 – 2. Competition, like Sawyer’s abs, remained tight and frustrating.
There were multiple near-collisions, and a few actual ones. Nate and Scott shared duties on the mound, both making the best of our overgrown playing surface. Pete’s cat-like reflexes are all that saved him from necessary rhinoplasty after a rocket of a line drive came at him (a girl on the opposing team, in the same situation, was not as lucky). Volpe came within inches of having an officially sanctioned, over-the-fences home run, but the conflicting foul cones denied him that distinction, and us a crucial run. Heading into the bottom of the seventh and final inning, we trailed The Sentences 8 – 5. Like the Losties, it was time for us to determine whether we could make our own destiny.
There may as well have been a temperamental nuke in a well somewhere, because we exploded! Led by Jenny’s awesome double, our team steadily put runners on the bases and quickly began closing the gap. We raised the stakes as high as they could go: two outs, bases loaded, tie score. With no extra innings available to us, it was now or never. Kish, who arrived late, half-heartedly climbed the fences just once, and fell on his rear in left field, stepped to the plate. Would the ghost of Momma Johnson grant him his redemption?
Find out in 2010.
Just kidding! On his first pitch, Kish booted a textbook pop fly to shallow center…which was bobbled and dropped. The runners advanced and the winning run came home. It was one of the most exciting games we’ve ever played. Appropriately, we celebrated at the famous Lounge 11, playing flip cup and being our typical rowdy selves, while a sit-down bachelorette party dinner was served adjacent to the beer pong tables.
Talk about a paradox.
Game 2 Brief
Record: 2 – 0
MVP of the Week (tie): Kish, for his aforementioned game-winner, and Yours Truly, for continued defensive perfection in right field. Neither of us could run away with the award, because Kish had an unusually weak game in left, and I got caught in an avoidable double play. That, and I forgot my camera again. (For the record, Pete nominated me for this honor)
Weekly “Not En Fuego” Award: Jeff – For missing his second game, without notice. Way to be, rook. Way to be.
Quote of the Game: Me – “I asked that guy if he was pitching again and he wouldn’t answer me.” Pete – “Maybe he’s deaf.”