By Pete B.
Why don't I use this first moment, where everyone is probably still paying attention, to say that I was touched by Tiger Woods today. I watched all of his final 36 holes and he played with discipline and precision and then when sealed the deal he cried for his father. It can't be easy being Tiger, with all of his drive, and I'm sure it's not easy losing your dad at the age of 26. You only get one life Tiger, don't feel obligated to keep winning golf tournaments for us. Just do it if you want to.
Well Tiger didn't show up for Bungleball tonite but just about everyone else did. I felt like a stranger in a strange land and at first the vibe wasn't good. It's never good when Hans doesn't show up. One feels as if a lynch pin has popped from the door hinge and you wonder if it will continue to function or whether it will simply all come apart. Luckily D. Lee showed up and he's the freaking glue too. Many stalwarts did make it as did a big contingent of folks who either pre-date me or were new. When all was said and done we had 20 players.
D. Lee and I choose up teams and pulled off a blockbuster trade and somehow I ended up with both latecomers: Hussar and Deion. The only way I can figure that I that D. Lee is a kind person.
Um. Miss Universe is on. What was I saying? Miss Mexico is so hot I want to cry... whoaaa Mex-i-co.
But Danny had a lot of guys who he felt comfortable going to war with too. Guys like Ambrose and Dinny. Guys like um that guy Matt with the glasses who hits a ton and .5. Guys like Doug. Guys like Dave. Guys like Jose. Guys who you want next to you in a knife fight because you know they'll never give up and they'll never give in. Guys like Ernest, who will pop a hammy, rub a little dirt on it, and leg out an infield single.
Oh wait. Jose was on my team.
What we lacked in guts, we more than made up for in talent. In fact, we has so much talent the first game was a 9-1 reset after two -- two -- innings. How often do you put up a nine-spot in 10 v 10 short field assball? Not often. Dave admitted later that he was the pitcher for the nine-spot. It takes a man to admit that. Dave also roped like six doubles and a couple base smackers to boot. He had a bad day on the "mound" -- there was no mound -- but a good day at the plate. He hit one down the right-field line while I was playing first and I swear I could hear the ball singing "Bolero" on the way past.
The second game was tighter than Miss Paraguay's glutes. At this point I have to wonder out loud: Who's banging Miss Paraguay? Probably some Andean slickster... really this ought to be deleted. I had a 2nd-inning bases-empty CSHR and our opponents -- we again failed to name the teams -- came back with a CSHR off the bat of Matt the Masher who emulates Jim Thome at the plate except he's a righty and Thome is lefty. Then they took a 2-1 lead later with I don't know goddamn what can't remember but you can bet they just raked that goddamn ball all over Southern New York Town until the raking was done.
It turns out that having Chris Hussar on your team is a good thing. Hussar, after a couple innings of 2-1 razor's edge TITENESS, led off with a double and we played a little small ball. Dave had a FC, moving Hussar to third, and then Evan had a sac fly to bring home CH for the tie. After that Leigh pounded a double and we took a couple extra runs off 'em for make it 4-2.
Ultimately their comeback was stifled because, while Hussar bliffed a taylor-made double play and we let a run in, he followed that up two batters later with what was the closest thing to a triple play we'll ever see out there. With the bases loaded he snared a one-hopper, tagged the runner moving off second, tagged 2nd, and then threw just wide of 1st to miss the triple dip. The runner of 3rd was tagged out at home one play later after Deion made a sick diving play at 3rd and a throw home to yours truly and we nailed Adam with a tag out.
I can't even remember what I was thinking I just got so excited thinking about the D we played that inning.
A lot of other stuff happened too. We de-tarped with great alacrity, fearing the disapproval of Hans Bungle. You don't want to be on the wrong side of Hans Bungle and I'll tell you why: It's not easy to get there. You have to work at it. He'll pretty much let anything slide. But when you're there, boy it's a lonely and dark feeling. I sure hope Baby Bungle never ends up there. Or if she does it's only brief. Like Hans will just sit her down and say, "Look, you can do want you want. I know this, but I think perhaps you should have just cleared it with us first before you had a kegger here while we were on the Vineyard for the weekend." And she'll say, "Yeah Dad. You're right. I don't know what I was thinking." And that'll be that. Anyway, I digress...
Also a great deal of beer was brought to the game. Andrew C. brought a twelver, Dinny and Ambrose (not sure which one or maybe both) brought like six cases of Budweiser, and there were many private stashes about. I brought a Foster's oilcan and then um promoted one of Dinny's tall boys. The amount of beer brought was kind of surprising but was really surprised me was the goddamn dugout was cold drunk bone dry by the first reset. Apparently 20 guys with mitts can drink a lot of suds on a Sunday night when the put their minds to it.
Another thing that happened was it was just a really beautiful night weather-wise and there were some clouds floating around and the temp was just so. And the soccer players were tame. Did someone put the fear into them last week?
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