Matsui-san
Hideki Matsui delivered a clutch two-run pinch-hit single in the ninth inning on this pitch today. Henceforth and forever-after, we shall do likewise.
I realize that Reachers who were not at the game tonight might misconstrue my headline to mean that we beat the highly self-regarded Greenwich Greys. Alas, that is not the case. We lost 8 - 3.
At some point in the bottom of the third inning — while the Greys were scoring runs three, four and five — a stench descended upon Rumbrook Upper Field and greeted us in the dugout when we trudged in from the diamond. At first, being a bunch of polite old coots, we all looked like we were overlooking the gastric distress of one of our brothers. That's what Reacher would do, after all. But it soon became apparent that we had a natural, or supernatural, disaster on our hands.
I asked Mike if the stink wasn't reminiscent of some political affairs he's been around but he just whispered a few words into his shirt collar and started straight ahead (I think he arranged for that Cobra helicopter that followed me home). Steve, who certainly has the professional credentials to root out a backed up sanitary sewer when he smells one, swore it was just that — a backed-up sanitary sewer. But he was clearly out of his league on this. Jason, who did not divulge from whence he gained such expertise, said the sulfuric fumes came straight from hell, and it occurred to me that he might be onto something. Robert, who is always my go-to guy for questions like these, referred me to the Rev. S. Putrid Miasma, a pentasoftballist preacher from Florida who is not only Mel's personal confessor during the winter league but also testifies that he is in frequent and direct communication with the gods of softball, Elvis and Rich Sauerhaft. Robert had his rotary-dial number so I borrowed Pete's bluetooth and patched a call through the Cobra's next-gen, otherworldly communication system on the ride home.
I will spare you the details of the Rev. Miasma's long sermon, which he claimed to be delivering straight from Otto, the father of the gods of softball who, depending on the outcome of the game resides in either heaven or hell, but it boils down to this: You are better than this, gentleman, you are better than this. Now, henceforth and forever-after, go forth and multiply the low line drives in the gaps in a timely manner.
He also found time to utter a kind word for an exploit or two of everyone in the lineup tonight, of course, but I will spare you those details also.
Two games next week! CASA (we owe them big time) at 9 on Monday and LaManda's (hit it anywhere but to the shortstop) at 9:30 on Thursday. Here's what I know so far: Mike and Pete are in for both games ; Robert is out for the 16th.