“So Mac,” says Joe, and lifts a glass –
“I heard you boys sure kicked some ass.
They say you fellas black and blued ‘em.
Stripped, filleted and cooked and chewed ‘em.
I seen each game you played this sked
You looked half-baked, half-cocked, half-dead.
So this is what I’d like to hear. How in Hell’d you get in gear?
“How’d you mash the squash so mean you put up – what’d they say – fifteen?
How’s a bunch of washed up tars turn into freakin’ porno stars?
You guys can’t hit. I know that’s true. I seen you bat. You’re done. You’re through.
The word’s been out all over town:
If you were dogs they’d put you down.
Aint nothing in your game that’s right… You made three double plays tonight?
Alright, okay… I aint real smart, and sure, I know you guys got heart…
But tell me straight just how the heck you took that team and wiped the deck?”
“Well Joe,” says I, and sipped my brew,
“You’re right. We rode the loop-dee-loo.
We bopped the rock and had a gas. And yeah, we kicked some righteous ass.
There’s games and then there’s games, I guess…
Yeah, we often make a mess
of things – but when the moment calls it aint just ‘bout the strikes and balls.
Well, Joe just blinked and scratched his head.
“I don’t get ya, Mac,” he said.
“There’s truths in life – there’s black and white,
and good and bad, and wrong and right…
And you guys look like junk all year till playoffs come, and now they’re here…
So don’t give me that ‘moment’ spiel. What’s your secret? What’s the deal?”
He might have asked ‘Who killed Cock Robin?’ ‘Why do roosters crow?’
‘What’s the reason banshees howl?’ Damned if I know.
There’s things best left to mystery, not all roads lead to Rome.
We need not know why sometimes we can bring the runner home.
So “Joe,” says I, “here’s the dope.
It aint ‘bout luck or chance or hope.
It’s got to do with how we feel. That might sound odd, but that’s the ‘deal.’”
“How you feel ‘bout what”? The game?”
“Well, not quite. Can’t give it a name.”
“C’mon, Mac… You must be high. Next you’ll tell me pigs can fly.”
“Well I don’t know if pigs have wings, but trust me, Joe. We’ll win this thing.”
Now… Down to details…
Four guys (Rick, Robert, JP, Mikey) had three hits --- five guys (Ed-Lo, Arch, Dr. Fred, Big Bear, and Marko) had two --- 25 in all. Eleven runs in the 6th.
Ed (“I just don’t feel comfortable in left”) Lo played absolutely primo. Actually, pretty much everyone flew first class in the field. Fred and JP were perfect – Lynx ate everything up – Arch with an ‘I’ll take this” DP – Rick with a snatch-and-backhand to 2nd for another twofer… And with the score still 2 – 1, Flaherty to Smith to Bohm was one of the sweetest DP’s you’ll ever see – and it broke the camel’s back.
But let’s rack focus and zero in here a bit. ‘Bottom of the Order’ had a quite a ring to it tonight. With two outs, Big Dee set the tone with a key hit – and then Bearnot, Gold and Smith kept this cutey coming back for more and finally broke it open so the pretty boys could wail – and Moby Dick they did. JP hit the longest HR on record --- Mikey “He likes it” Flack missed one by a foot. (The big dude hit the ball so hard all night long that he killed eleven of the relatives of the cow that they made the ball from.)
A word now about our pitcher.
At this point, I have caught an awful lot of his games – but jeez, tonight… J–Ace was something to behold. A work of art creating one. Let the word go forth…that in a seven-inning game of slow-pitch, arc softball he never threw more than one ‘ball’ to any batter (and none of those missed by more than an inch or so). Think about that for a sec – and as you all brush your teeth (or put them in the glass on the sink) and take your goodnight pee (or try desperately to), consider this: The very best of major league pitchers average about three walks per game – and they get to throw the ball straight – and fast. In other words, J-Ace wasn’t just great tonight… Actually, he was kind of creepy.
Let us now take a moment to commend Robert Sr. on a sterling job of managing. (Get it? Sterling?) You may all clap.
And give props to Buzz G for showing up, brothering up, and pumping us up. May he heal as quickly as he talks.
And lastly…
Clearly there was a spirit in the sky looking down on us tonight, flying high above us, the power of his presence undeniable, the strength of his belief uplifting, his determination so great as to soldier us to victory…and even show up in time for a beer.