Otto may have missed one or two of you after the game — and I'll also repeat it for you geezers scoring at home or on vacation (with or without the aid of pharmaceuticals): The august umpire suggested that I be administered a Breathalyzer test to determine if my crapulent performance in left field tonight was due to the vestiges of my last drink 25 years ago. Could be. That was a doozy.
But here's the real story. I know you Sons-of-the-Palisades types are way too proud to play along with the diabolical plot hatched by GM Robert "Solid" Gold and myself to finish in the No. 7 position in order to play the No. 2 seeded team, CASA, next Monday, instead of the No. 3 seeded team, Four Corners, on Thursday. I hinted at the deep thinking behind this strategy in my email this afternoon.
It appears unlikely that we'll finish anywhere except No. 7, but our devious ploy gains verisimilitude with the latest twists in the standings. CASA, to whom we brought a very strong game the other night, is a lock for No. 2, having overtaken Four Corners, which clobbered us the week before. I'm feeling better than ever about Round One. Then it would probably be Greenwich in the semis, just like last year. Let the Season Begin!
But then, with everyone pounding the stitching out of the Clincher and us scoring six runs in the top of the first, and then 478 going out of his way to catch a liner to initiate a triple play in the bottom half of the frame, if occurred to me that we were not only peaking too early, we were peaking inappropriately.
"Hmmm," I mused, as Solid induced weak flies and squibbly grounders, "if we beat LaManda's for a second time, we'll have a record of 4-10. If LaManda's loses two games on Thursday, they too will be 4-10. But we've beat them twice. And there goes the Solid-Gold party at Maud's next Monday night because there will be no game on Monday. We'd play Thursday." So I did my best to boot the game away by dropping routine flies. A few guys caught on and tried to help here and there in the field, but if was all more than offset by your insistence on whacking the bejeezus out of the ball whilst in the batter's box.
Lopez, 2-4. Wertz, 2-4. Pezzuto, a triple. Puritz, 4-4 with a gamy groin. Flaherty, 3-4. Linkowski, 3-4. Dawkins, 3-4. Tilly, 1-3 with a sac fly. Smith 1-3. Forbes 2-3, Roif 1-3.
Final score, 13-7. Solid notches the win; the Jayman hurls three dazzling innings of relief.
I'll let you know, as soon as I can, who and when we play in Round One of the playoffs. And seriously, if we hit like we hit tonight, and field like we usually do, nobody's gonna beat us.