I’m sad to report that our downward spiral continued last Thursday night. Our defensive coordination was once again lacking. Not that our offense was much stronger; apart from bunts (that only the speediest of us can run out), we can’t keep our balls on the ground. On top of that, we played a team that made our competitive spirit look positively meditative by comparison, and we were at the mercy of a humorless and fearsome-looking umpire.
Our efforts were sloppy from the very start, as we realized over the course of many an e-mail that afternoon that we weren’t going to have enough girls to meet the league quota. Josh promised us a gal pal of his, who never arrived. Seeking redemption, Pete called in his sister, Lauren, a kickball veteran who had hung up her ZogSports t-shirt after her teammates turned abusive during a heated post-game round of flip cup (no lie). I give her lots of credit for willingly coming out to get us out a bind, knowing that we’re a seriously disturbed collection of individuals.
However, Lauren should be counting her blessings that Pete is on our team, and not the team that played us. They were positively frightening. Their guys were all big and strong, kicking like they were never going to be able to swing their knees ever again. More bothersome to me were their women, who were among the most annoying I’ve ever faced. Repeatedly, they argued calls, had to be told to back off from the shallowest parts of the infield, and trash talked our base runners. Still, they were nothing compared to the three IAs on the squad. IA stands for Intense Asian. Oh, stop, you know exactly what I’m talking about. There were three of them: the pitcher, who wound up and rolled the ball as if he were bowling at the Beijing Olympics; the taller girl who slid into first base; and the shorter girl who, in an effort to get back to second base after going half-way to third on a one out pop fly, threw herself to the ground (seriously, she faceplanted so hard, I thought she lost teeth) and crawled back to second base on her elbows and knees like she was fighting at Verdun. For the record, she was safe. The coup de gras, though, was that these fools were wearing crisp clean burgundy t-shirts. Having been welcomed into the world of ZogSports with my own burgundy t-shirt many moons ago, I took this as an offense comparable to flag burning. Unfortunately, we couldn’t channel our frustration into a victory over these Ultra-Maroons.
We were helped none by our referee, who entertained not even the slightest comment about any of his calls. His word was final. True, that’s as it should be, but never before had that point been brought across to us so harshly. Eventually, we didn’t bother protesting, because he was simply too scary to face. With his pale skin, protruding jaw, high forehead, and dark, beady eyes, he called to mind one of Buffy’s nemeses. With his vampiric super-hearing, we couldn’t even mutter dismissively without him knowing. His also used his keen Dracula powers to apparently slow down time in order to accurately make the aforementioned judgments. He would sometimes wait until someone had run to second before calling out that the kick was foul. We mere mortals couldn’t understand.
At the end of the hour, we left the field defeated, 8 – 2. Unable to salvage our record or save the good burgundy reputation, there was little post-game celebrating to be had. We solemly parted ways, disappointed but undeterred.
Game 4 Recap
Record: 1 – 3
MVP of the Week: Erin – Despite coming up short on offense, Erin did have a great game at second base, ripping two line drives out of the air for some crucial outs.
Weekly “Not En Fuego” Award: Josh – For not only failing to bring us a female athlete, as promised, but for subjecting us all day to a steady stream of unfunny, grammatically deficient, and largely illegible statements of pure digital diarrhea on the traditional game day e-mail chain. Oh, and you collided with Kish in the outfield and blew an easy out. So, suck on that.
Quote of the Week: “Just stop talking!” ~ Kish to Erin