LEADERS
Crack open a history book and have a close look: tucked in among the stories of war, slavery, famine and oppression you might just find a few reminders of what the human race is capable of when people work together towards a common goal. The Freakin’ Pyramids, for instance. The Great Wall of China. That crazy-ass indoor ski park in Dubai. Fast Times at Ridgemont High.
And now, on the page covering May 21st, 2006, you'll find a tale of 14 men getting together to play a game of good softball on a night when it was less than 70 degrees outside and it had rained earlier in the day. We can do it! Be a part of it!
What makes this achievement even more remarkable are the names of some regulars who were absent.
Out: D. Lee, chilling in the Tuscan countryside with a bottle of vino, scribbling notes into the margins of his in-progress NBA Draft Preview.
Out: Ambrose, preserving his stats and shaking his moneymaker at a gay wedding in Massachusetts.
Out: Deion, possibly still stuck in traffic.
Out: Tin Man, off in an underground batting cage somewhere helping the Mantis plot his comeback.
Out: Joe Monkeyweb, once again the victim of The Man's unquenchable appetite for labor and production.
Here's how Joe's week usually goes, as far as I can tell:
Wednesday: The sign-up sheet goes up. Joe, still a little pissed about having to miss last week's game because of work, immediately puts himself in as a "Yes." There's no way I'm missing another game for work. Fuck that, he thinks, I have a life.
Friday comes, and The Man calls Joe into his office. The news isn't good. Infuriated, Joe privately maintains that he will still be free in time for softball, but posts the first of his many status updates to the website: "In-work permitting" he says cautiously.
At this point, I know he's out, Lumbergh knows he's out, and I suspect even Joe knows he's out. But he still tries to put on a brave face. That's why he's a gamer.
Sunday comes and the work is still raining down on Joe's head. He posts an update: "Looking less and less likely for me."
Finally, after the clouds get thick and it looks like rain, Joe accepts his fate: he'll be tied to a desk until night comes. "Definitely Out" is his final update.
Poor Joe. I feel for you, dude. I guess this is what you have to deal with when you have a real job. If you had stuck it out with me, you'd be free by 3pm on Sunday after overseeing the Chef du Jour set turnaround.
Sorry about that digression. Just making the point that a lot of regulars weren't there but we trudged on and had ourselves some fun.
On to the game.
Like I said, 14 dudes on a 52 degree night that was a little cloudy but never really threatening. Tall Boys were in hand. Dan K. showed up munching on a chocolate ice cream cone. Evan came and brought a dude named Mark who lives in his building. Good job, Evan. Hussar brought his positive attitude in from Jersey.
As we waited for the Little Leaguers to get off the field, a homeless couple got in a spat on Clarkson street. The man snuck up behind the woman as she walked away, and then he poked her in both ribs. In a voice that resonated with all the sorrow of her miserable lifetime, she screamed, "Don't you fucking touch me! I'm an evil motherfucker! Call the cops! Help!" Then she realized it was her man and got even madder. Eventually they agreed to disagree and they went their separate ways.
All the signs were there for a strong night.
Without D. Lee we were a little lost at first. Pete reluctantly agreed to step in and choose teams with me, and he turned out to be a natural. The teams were evenly matched and the game was tight throughout.
We never got an official set of team names so we are going with Dan K.'s suggestion of Brown v. Board of Education (henceforth BOE).* Since I'm writing this recap, we'll be Brown.
There was a whole bunch of wind blowing around and, as illustrated by 3 accidental inning-enders over the first 3 innings, it was probably blowing out.
BOE threatened to blow the game in each of those first three innings, but only managed a single run in each frame. When I stepped up to the plate with two on and none out in the 3rd, I knew I had to call my shot. And on the first pitch I hit a solid homer out to left, tying the game at 3-3.
Here's the thing: I really enjoy hitting the ball out of JJ Walker field. I know, as a grown man who's over 6 feet tall and close to 300 pounds, I shouldn't. It's like 150 feet. But it feels good. Especially when there are men on base.
So we tied it and blah blah blah and then they scored again blah blah and some guy made a nice play here and there and then blah blah and we came back again and took the lead whatevs and then when we were in like the 6th inning Leigh came up and called his shot and muscled out a towering blast to dead center to give BOE the lead for good.
That put them up 7-6 and then like a minute later Pete was on 3rd and he was like, "That was a big shot." I had already forgotten about Leigh's homer from 30 seconds earlier and assumed that Pete could only be talking about mine from like a half hour earlier. "Mine?" I asked hopefully, honestly moved that he was still marveling at my 158 footer from the 3rd.
"Um, no...Leigh's," Pete said incredulously.
Another unwanted reminder that there are other people in the world besides me. Whatever the case, BOE tacked on a couple more and went on to win Game 1, 9-6.
Game 2 was one of those laughers that got out of hand pretty early. New Guy Mark's girlfriend actually showed up at the field and told him he better get his ass home, which may be a first in Leroyball history. Not even the angry cellphone call -- she hit him with the full-on in-person swing-by. Completely humiliating, if that's what really happened. We'll have to check back with New Guy Mark, if he ever shows up again. Once he left it was 7 on 6 and we donated them an extra fielder when we batted. The extra fielder (which was a composite of several of us) did a rather poor job and helped Brown score a bunch of unearned runs, and Kissel launched his first called shot of the season, and the final was like 7-1 or something in an abbreviated 4 inning 2nd game.
TWIS NOTES:
-The soccer players are getting out of hand. They made several snide and wholly incorrect comments about how we had played past 9:00 last week (wtf? that was our mother's day debacle when 7 guys showed up. plus we've never played past nine. maybe the dude is stuck on GMT) and they encroached annoyingly down the line in right. I did turn around and bat lefty once Game 2 was out of hand so I could take a couple potshots at them. I managed to hit one screamer that almost decapitated a few of them, which was even more satisfying than my 158 foot homer. Stupidly, I yelled "Heads Up" and they managed to get out of the way. There will be major beef with these guys very shortly. They need to understand the rules of the park and respect our permit-granted rights, and maybe line drive to the head is the only language we can both speak fluently.
-Justin is a ridiculous player. He was roaming CF like an antelope. He leaped up against the fence to rob us of one hit, and he made several other big plays as well. At one point after he effortlesly cruised about 80 feet to catch a looper, I said to Adam R., "Would a major leaguer look much different than that while chasing down a flyball?" Adam said no, probably not.
-Doug gets a gold star for climbing into the garden/bocce area at the end of the night to retrieve two of our balls. He also had 4 hits in Game 1. Climbers are key. Without Original Mark, it's down to Doug and Deion. They deserve something extra for their troubles. Next week I will bring them each a donut of their choice, and one for Original Mark if he re-enters the fold.
-Jon R. may be my favorite player. He's fast as hell and has plenty of skill but he's got some weird clumsy streak that causes him to take huge awkward dramatic spills where it looks like all his limbs are gonna pop off and roll around. Tonight he took one at first and one at third. He's also a hell of a nice guy.
-Justin hit a gargantuan homer that somehow failed to be entered in the box score. I think it was in Game 2 and it went so far out of the field that it reminded me just how teeny our little park is and how chintzy my homers are in comparison. It was both awesome and humbling.
-Evan had an off night with the bat but played some excellent D, including a nice play on a line drive and an over the shoulder Jeter-style catch on a popup.
-Leigh is the opposite: his D remains shaky as he wrestles with the middle-aged man's understandable reluctance to buy new glove, but his bat is lethal. He can rip it.
-Pete B. was all over the field in both games, and he went 5 for 5 in game 1. He has established himself in the top non-Justin tier among Leroy ballplayers. Right now I'd put him and Jon R. there for their athleticism and all-around play. Julian might be getting there but we need to scout him a little more. Oh, and you. You're there.
-Dan K. had a strong all-around game as well. He's one of the better early-round picks you can make because he's always on base. He's got a swing that was custom built for Clarkson, hard liners every time. He did manage his annual drive off the fence in this game, too, and it was in a called-shot situation. Maybe next year.
-I hereby put forth a motion that if Game 1 is close and it's around 8:10, we just play one game instead of two. The second game is sometimes a rushed dud. I would say we can reset the called shots at 8 o'clock but the park is closed at that point so all balls hit into the park require a climb.
-The Puma had another good night at the plate, but he proved his real value in directing street-retrievers away from the garden before they threw our balls back to us. Incredible, it was like he had the Jedi mind trick going out there. Pete observed that Lex could probably be bringing in 747's if the architecture career falls through.
-The Kissel brothers are breaking down physically. I hope we can get a full season out of them. Kissel Jr. has a serious wrist injury and big bro Adam is all banged up as well. But they are toughing it out for the glory of love.
-Game Balls:
Game 1: Pete/Leigh
Game 2: Hussar/Kissel Jr.
-I'm not gonna harp on the scorekeeping because I know it's a pain. I will however gently remind you to please make sure you mark down runs and rbi's. It helps.
***New Feature***
Recapilogue:
When the game was over and all the ballplayers had gone home, I noticed that I still had three Tall Boys left in my Tall Boy sack. Without Deion and Ambrose there I guess our Tall Boy consumption was down a little bit.
Since I was going to ride my bike home and I had to pick up some stuff at Whole Foods, the idea of lugging three Tall Boys home with me didn't make a lot of sense. I considered leaving them on top of one of them newspaper dispenser things and letting some hobo make a wonderful discovery. Then I decided that such a move would be much better if I could be there to present the hobo with his Tall Boys, so I could actually see his face light up.
Then I was like, what the hell is the matter with me? I'm treating hobos like doggies, tossing them a little treat in exchange for some weird sense of superiority. Plus, if a guy is all down and out on the street and he's addicted to booze, should I really be giving him more booze?
The answer: probably yes.
But I didn't feel right about it so I crammed the tall boys into my gym bag and got on the bike for the ride home.
I rode down Leroy and passed the Village Tavern on Bedford. The Yankee-Met game was on. I slammed on the brakes. Jeter was up, 4th ininng, 2 outs, men on 2nd and 3rd. I had a perfect view through the window.
So I cracked open one of the Tall Boys and drank some of it while I watched the game. Jeter came through with an RBI single. Then Giambi walked. Then A-Rod lined out and it was time for me to go. I rode home through the cool night, taking tugs on my brown-bagged Tall Boy the whole way. Breeze, Bike, Bud. No worries. It was as close as a man can come to Spicoli's model of complete personal satisfaction.
I rode east across 8th street and headed up University Place, passing the spot where nearly every day for four years on the walk home from high school the Puma would hand me his leftover Twix wrapper and I would inexplicably take it. As I hit 11th street I drained the last of my Tall Boy save a half ounce of backwash. As I hit 12th I spied a garbage can on the right hand side of the street, next to a streetlamp. The window of opportunity was small. The lamppost was blocking about half of the can, leaving only a sliver of can available to me. I knew I had to attempt the shot, and of course I knew that slowing down would be cheating. At around 19 mph, I let it fly. Money. I thought of that line from the first Lethal Weapon movie: Ten guys in the world coulda made that shot.
I went to the store and bought food for the nanny and then I rode home buzzed and content.
* Although perhaps using this name frivolously is inappropriate.
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