Apologies for the lateness of this recap, sports fans. I fully intended to have a fellow teammate contribute to the blog this week. Rookie Steinhaus agreed to my request over a pre-game beer, but at press time he is still running on radio silence. (Sorry, buddy. I’ve got a schedule to keep. You can get the next one.)
We fared no better after our week away from Momma Johnson Park, losing another tight game on Tuesday night, 4 – 3. Spitz was back on the mound, but our defense failed to support her stellar pitching. I am among those chiefly responsible, as I grossly underestimated the strength of one opposing kicker, who sent the ball clear over my head for an inside-the-park home run. We tried to keep pace. Some crafty bunting and smart base running extended our at-bats, but we repeatedly left people stranded. In the end, a missed opportunity to field a bunt put runners in scoring position, and when Steinhaus missed the grab down the third base line, the game was over.
The moral of the story is that Steinhaus and I should not drink before games.
We may have been the losers, but I feel confident knowing that we were the more female-friendly team. Our gray-shirted opponents were rather chauvinistic. I should have known something was up when they arrived and the menfolk immediately began tossing a football around, like this was some J. Crew photo shoot. Anyway, they had one guy on their team who played center field. Two of their ladies played short and second. A good number of shallow flies were knocked in this direction. Some were fielded, quite excellently, by the ladies. But the majority were caught by Prince Charming, who, in a voice loud enough for everyone in a five block radius to hear, called these fragile females off the play so he could handle the overwhelming responsibility of catching a giant red ball. Oh, the relief on those poor girls’ faces, knowing they were saved by Hoboken’s Hercules. What a hero. What a martyr. Also, a wardrobe note for this and all members of the He-Man Woman Haters Club: if you’re going to wear old gym shorts to the game, and insist on tucking the front of your shirt into your shorts (which, by the way, looks fucking ridiculous), please wear supportive underwear. You’re a boy. We understand you have a penis. We don’t need to see it jingling around each time you jog on and off the field. Thank you.
We’re taking the late shift next week, a 9:45 game on April 13. This conflicts with the return of Glee. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind a rain-out. Missing kickball or missing Glee? I ask you which is the greater blasphemy.
Game 2 Brief
Record: 0 – 2
MVP of the Week: Josh – I know, I know. But he bravely stepped into MVPete’s shoes and played third base, making a number of crucial stops. Does it make you feel better if I tell you that he made those stops as awkwardly as physically possible?
Weekly Not En Fuego Award: Yours Truly – I was so pleased with myself for having slid back into second base on a tricky two out play that I let the big one get past me in right field a few innings later. Also, I was too impatient to wait for Steinhaus to write this.
Quote of the Week: “Your kids are gonna play there one day.” ~ Rachel to Scott, referencing the adjacent playground.