A Friendly Game of Softball

I don't know if there was something in the air this Sunday night, but this might have been the sloppiest, most error-filled game I've participated in since Little League. The final score, Bonds defeating Aaron* 14-13, does reflect the exciting, action-packed game it was, but few of those 27 runs were earned. There were some monstrous homers, most of them uncalled, natch, including a huge shot by Ambrose that cleared the fence, rattled around in a tree, and dropped gracefully and perfectly onto the noggin of a bald guy sitting on the bench in right. We all believed that was the first time that ever happened. In retrospect, we should have awarded Ambrose the run.

I myself -- the epitome of the good-field, no-hit infielder, though I did hit my one wall shot of the year -- made two throwing errors and an error of judgment in the infield that led directly to six of Bonds' runs. That sucked, but not as bad as it sucked to be that dude on Bonds. Those who were there know who I'm talking about -- I don't know his name, but he's a nice guy who had an absolutely brutal night in the field. He booted ground ball after ground ball in the infield, including two consecutive shin shots at third. He got eaten up in the outfield, dropping a couple balls and letting a few others fall after losing track of them near the wall. At one crucial point in the game, when he was in center, one member of Aaron hit it directly to him with two runners on base; the dude botched it, both runners scored, and when the Aaron player scored, he shame-facedly admitted, "That's the third time I've hit it to him."

On such a night of bone-headed defensive errors, let's mention the two guys who actually flashed some leather. Warren, on Aaron, made an outstanding catch leaping into the left-field fence. Tony, on Bonds, made two great plays -- one a fantastic double-play starting snag at short, and one a stumbling, sliding catch of my line drive with two outs in the ninth and his team up 14-11.

With no soccer jerks visible -- "It must be a holiday in France or some bullshit," said Pete -- we decided to play another, a decision I loudly endorsed with the argument that we're about to have another baby and therefore I'll never get to have fun again. We held Bonds scoreless in the top of the tenth, then mounted a rally in the bottom, for once solely based on our own hitting as opposed to any errors by the opponents. With Aaron having pulled within one run with none out, that guy Rob -- is it Rob, who wears baseball pants sometimes and always hustles more than anyone else, to the point of sliding frequently? -- hit a solid single, and on the next batter's hit rounded second and tore off toward third, everyone on the bench (and Danny in the coaching box) yelling "Stay 2! Stay 2!". Ambrose's throw was dead on target and beat Rob by five or six steps but the usually solid James dropped it at third, perhaps thrown off by his lack of the traditional fuelding cigarette. Rob's slide came in hard and knocked James over; Rob seemed to catch him again as he leaped up to head for home. With James holding the ball but rolling around on his back, Danny -- Aaron's captain -- called Rob back to third just as he touched home.

"What?" he demanded loudly. "Why do I have to go back?"

"Because James got hurt," Danny said.

"Because he got hurt?" Rob said in disbelief. "What does that have to do with anything? Why doesn't the run count?"

"Because we're playing a friendly game of softball," I shouted from the bench.

Needless to say, in the farcical spirit of the evening, the next batter (Andrew?) walloped an uncalled shot over the left-field fence to end the game. Rob walked straight over to me, stood closer than is usual, and loudly asked, "So what does that mean, 'We're playing a friendly game of softball?'"

"Uh," I said.

"And I'm NOT playing a friendly game of softball?"

"I'm saying," I said, as he stared fiercely at me, "that you acted like you were angry with James that he got hurt when you slide into him, and that didn't seem like it was in the spirit of this game."

"I wan't angry with James," he said. "But I AM angry with you."

He stormed off as Danny bemoaned the fact that had he just allowed Rob's run to score we would have tied the game. He learned a valuable lesson: chivalry never got anyone anywhere. I learned a valuable lesson as well: some people take things seriously.

After we tarped it up, Rob walked over to me and said, "No hard feelings." When I told this story to my wife later, she shook her head and said, "Boys."

Game ball: will be passed among all the players on both teams, who will each drop it or throw it over each other's heads.




*I just made those team names up.