The Blowout that Wasn't
May. 28th, 2008 09:44 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
penfieldSoftball Game: May 28, 2008
WON 19-12
By the end of the third inning of this week's game against a random Pennsylvania congressional district, the score was 18 to 1. As the pitcher I had scattered a few hits along with a one-two-three inning (on four pitches), with the defense sharp behind me. At the plate we were relentless, our line drives going over, past and in some cases practically through the defenders. And at that point we were still pushing ourselves -- our 18th run scored when the baserunner blazed right through my "stop" sign at third base.
I was coaching conservatively at the time, perhaps because I know full well what it feels like to be on the side of the single digit and sympathy was seeping in. I felt flashes of pity as the opposing team saw a number of close calls go our way instead of theirs. I even thought to myself, as I coached first base in the fourth inning, that if it was a bang-bang play I might give them the benefit of the call, just for the sake of good relations and everyone going home gracefully.
Apparently the entire team started thinking similarly, or simply got tired from running around the bases, because the opposing squad roared back with a vengeance, smacking my flattened pitches into the outfield. Our only additional run came on a screaming home run to left field in the seventh inning; the rest of our line drives seemed to find glove leather, including my hardest-hit ball of the night.
By the bottom of the seventh they had scraped their way to within 7 runs -- not out-of-reach -- and the leadoff man reached base on a dropped ball by our first baseman. The next batter, one of their big sonofabitches who hit a home run off of me in the sixth, came up to the plate and drove the ball sharply up the middle. Our shortstop snagged it on a hop and tossed it to the second base(wo)man who stepped on the bag and whipped it to first for a double play. Two pitches later, I snared a liner for the last out, then casually dropped the ball on the mound as I strutted away like a pimp.
The bottom of the seventh was more than just a savory win for a team that hasn't won much recently. It galvanized us as players and seemed to foster a real sense of chemistry. God damn me for possibly jinxing us, but I think we could have a real good season -- if we continue playing the games.
Our next game is on Monday -- as one of my teammates put it, "the softball equivalent of a day game after a night game." Looks like I'll be icing my shoulder this weekend.
My statistics:
AB1: Sacrifice fly
AB2: Hustle-double, run
AB3: Reach on error
AB4: Lineout to shortstop
1 for 3, run, RBI
7 IP, 12 runs (15.40 ERA/9, 12.00 ERA/7)
WON 19-12
By the end of the third inning of this week's game against a random Pennsylvania congressional district, the score was 18 to 1. As the pitcher I had scattered a few hits along with a one-two-three inning (on four pitches), with the defense sharp behind me. At the plate we were relentless, our line drives going over, past and in some cases practically through the defenders. And at that point we were still pushing ourselves -- our 18th run scored when the baserunner blazed right through my "stop" sign at third base.
I was coaching conservatively at the time, perhaps because I know full well what it feels like to be on the side of the single digit and sympathy was seeping in. I felt flashes of pity as the opposing team saw a number of close calls go our way instead of theirs. I even thought to myself, as I coached first base in the fourth inning, that if it was a bang-bang play I might give them the benefit of the call, just for the sake of good relations and everyone going home gracefully.
Apparently the entire team started thinking similarly, or simply got tired from running around the bases, because the opposing squad roared back with a vengeance, smacking my flattened pitches into the outfield. Our only additional run came on a screaming home run to left field in the seventh inning; the rest of our line drives seemed to find glove leather, including my hardest-hit ball of the night.
By the bottom of the seventh they had scraped their way to within 7 runs -- not out-of-reach -- and the leadoff man reached base on a dropped ball by our first baseman. The next batter, one of their big sonofabitches who hit a home run off of me in the sixth, came up to the plate and drove the ball sharply up the middle. Our shortstop snagged it on a hop and tossed it to the second base(wo)man who stepped on the bag and whipped it to first for a double play. Two pitches later, I snared a liner for the last out, then casually dropped the ball on the mound as I strutted away like a pimp.
The bottom of the seventh was more than just a savory win for a team that hasn't won much recently. It galvanized us as players and seemed to foster a real sense of chemistry. God damn me for possibly jinxing us, but I think we could have a real good season -- if we continue playing the games.
Our next game is on Monday -- as one of my teammates put it, "the softball equivalent of a day game after a night game." Looks like I'll be icing my shoulder this weekend.
My statistics:
AB1: Sacrifice fly
AB2: Hustle-double, run
AB3: Reach on error
AB4: Lineout to shortstop
1 for 3, run, RBI
7 IP, 12 runs (15.40 ERA/9, 12.00 ERA/7)
Re: Hustle double
Date: 2008-06-04 03:03 pm (UTC)--Josh
Re: Hustle double
Date: 2008-06-04 05:36 pm (UTC)Re: Hustle double
Date: 2008-06-04 07:17 pm (UTC)The easiest extra base I ever got was home. I was on second (after a hustle double, actually) and the next batter grounded out on a slow roller to the second baseman. I easily advanced to third and saw that no one was covering home.