The Season of Courage: The Movie
B-Sqaud 2008 Recap from Jim Bernard on Vimeo.
Nine things I learned as a Sportsmen
1. There is a strategic game “plan” which is drawn up by the Sportsmen’s central organizer who calls himself a “manager.” He provides advice and guidance throughout the game to the other players.
2. Sportsmen track intra-game performance using an elaborate set of charts and graphs which gauge not only the hits achieved and runs scored but also the hydration levels of the players expressed in ounces of liquid consumed. They have a small lab set up behind the bench to carefully measure everything going in and out of the players.
3. Sportsmen carefully choose adjectives to precisely describe the circumstances during the game. When Sportsmen says “good” job you can take that to the bank.
4. Sportsmen sprinkles performance enhancing pixie dust on his bats between each inning and mutters what appears to be a prayer of some sort.
5. The third base coach, like your pinky toe, is totally unnecessary. Sportsmen play without a third base coach to guide traffic, but this appeared to have little impact on play and performance.
6. Sportsmen includes Sportswomen, or perhaps more accurately, Sportsgirls. These players, under the careful guidance of their father, were able to participate fully in the game though they did not seem to enjoy it very much.
7. Sportsmen shake hands with each other in recognition of their collaboration in the softball sport. This brings them great joy.
8. Sportsmen has healthy respect for his athletic adversaries and showed no disrespect to the B-Squad. In fact, Sportsmen constructed a large B out of old softballs next to the bench and was very careful to step around the installation during the game.
9. Sportsmen dispersed suddenly after the game in many directions without ceremony or ritual. One second he was there, the next he was gone, gone, gone.
Wrestling With The Tournament
by TomEB
Back in about 1977, at the tender age of 10- my dad was going through a phase where he was a member of the Sunrise Optimist Club back in Cedar Rapids. This club did stuff, and must have met once in a while- but that is all speculation on my part. As far as I knew, what they did was hold a wrestling tournament at Coe College once a year. I knew this because for 3 years my dad had been a timerkeeper, and gave me an important job- I had a rolled-up towel, and it was my job to go out onto the mat when there were 30 seconds left, and tap the referee on the shoulder with the towel when time expired- since he was too busy watching the wrestlers to watch my dad drop his arm to signal time.
Simple job, and I was pretty good at it for a few years.
But then my dad tells me one year- “Tom- you’ve been wrestling me here around the house pretty well- you are now old enough to wrestle in this tournament, and you should enter. You’ll do great”
I should note here that my father never wrestled in any sort of organized competition himself.
But knowing that Father is Always Right- I agreed.
So come tournament day, there I was getting weighed in. This was my first clue that this would be a long day- I was taller and heavier than anyone else my age, and wrestling is by weight. So I was assigned to a bracket of kids mostly 2 years older than me. Uh oh.
Pairings are announced, and I’m matched up with some kid named “Bye” Oh- that means I don’t have to wrestle the first round? Ok.
Second round- off we go. Wait- it’s over? What the hell happened? Pinned in 15 seconds dummy- that’s what.
3rd round- since I had the bye- this is for 3rd place. I sure won’t get pinned this time! Crap- I’m already on my back. Fight it! Fight it! Hey- this hurts, I’m tired, and I really don’t want to be here- I give up.
After that 3rd round I was pretty woozy, and don’t really remember the awards ceremony. I just remember that I got home with a 4th place ribbon I didn’t really feel I deserved, and a photo of my grimacing on the stand with the other kids. The picture and ribbon went into the closet and I never wreslted again outside of gym class.
Flash forward to present day:
Bricker announces that the B-Squad will play in a tournament. I’m pretty stoked- I envision a day-long picnic with softball games taking place around lots of people with kids, lawn chairs and potato salad- kind of like a family reunion with umpires. We would hang with the other teams between games, who were also there more for the atmosphere than the game and it would be a pretty nice day.
Then a few weeks ago- someone brings my nice little delusion crashing down: “these guys are serious” I hear, “the pitchers wear helmets, the infield needs cups, and the ball will travel 8000 miles per hour every time they hit it” Oh oh- we’re wrestling the 12-year-olds, aren’t we?
“You’re just messing with us”- I say. “No” comes the reply- “these guys are not kidding around. Oh yeah- the rules are different too. Pitching is totally different- they dance.” Defnintely the 12-year-olds.
Then, we have one of the most emotionally brutal regular games of the season. Details escape me- I was pretty woozy- but I remember feeling later “was this it? Is this the End Of the B-Squad? Will this tournament take all the remaining fun out of this thing? We’re getting older- how much more can we take?”
Then, a glimmer of hope! A scouting report comes in “We can totally play with these guys!” Well, it sounds better. But I still hear that echo of my dad “you’ll do great”
Saturday morning- I pull into the complex in Minnetonka. I’m ready- this could be ugly, but I think it won’t be any uglier than we’ve seen before. There’s been some rain but it’s clearing off. Cool, breezy weather with some sun- but not enough to get in your eyes. I can do this.
Then I see it- two groups of very young-looking men in very complete very nice uniforms doing group warmups with near-miltary precision. And for that moment, I’m 10 again. This is gonna suck.
Then I realize that they are on a baseball field, not a softball field. I’m looking at 2 high-school varsity teams getting ready for a game and it has nothing to do with us. I’m back.
The location is not quite what I had seen in that first moment of excitement- there is no big pinic, the fields are all fenced in and stacked next to each other in a way that reminds me of the old Chicago Stockyards, without the smell. There are some kids running around, but not the giant relaxed Como-Park-on -Saturday kind of thing I had envisioned. This is a Softball Tournament.
As we gather for game one- I see that the other team- while they look like they’ll be pretty good, is not going to win a national title any time soon. And sure enough- they bat the crap out of the ball. I’ll leave the game details to others, but it was called after 2 innings due to the mercy rule. Yes, it was ugly- but it was the kind of ugly I can handle.
During the 30-minute wait for the next game, I reflect on my fears and remembered one part of the wrestling experience that I had not really thought much about. After that first horrendous match- one of the 12-year-olds who was doing well sat down with me and talked to me. He asked about my wrestling experience, and then proceeded to give me tips and a pep-talk. Then he cheered me on for the second match, and came over to check on me as I weaved my way to the stands after that last mulitiating defeat.
And there you have it. During that break, I got a pep-talk from a 12-year-old wrestler who’s name I never knew. And the next game- we fought it! We fought it like nobody’s business! And didn’t quit. Not this time!
TomEB
PS- I got last out. So I got the beer next game.
Marriage at Home Plate
The following is a transcript of the
Gary and Erica Softball Wedding
On June 25, 2008
ROX THE UMP
Friends, we have been invited here today to share with Erica and Gary a very important moment in their lives. For several seasons their relationship has grown and matured and now they have decided to formally recognize their lives together in front of Gary’s softball buddies. We start our ceremony with a reading by the couple’s good friend and belligerent infielder Malibar.
MALIBAR
A reading from the Amateur Softball Association of America Softball Playing rules revised 2005, as amended at Mobile Alabama in 2006
Rule 1 Definitions
Infield Fly. A fair ball (not including a line drive or an attempted bunt) which can be caught by an infielder, pitcher or catcher with ordinary effort when first and second bases, or first second or third bases are occupied before two are out. Any defensive player who takes a position in the infield at the start of the pitch shall be considered an infielder for the purpose of this rule. The infield fly is ruled when the ball reaches the highest point based on the position of the closest infielder regardless who makes the play. When it seems apparent that a batted ball will be an infield fly, the umpire shall immediately declare: “Infield Fly.” The ball is live and runners may advance at the risk of the ball being caught. The runners can tag up and advance once the batted ball is touched (prior to catching), the same as any fly ball. If a declared infield fly becomes a foul ball, it is treated the same as any fly ball.
Rule 8 The batter-runner is out when:
Section 2 article I The batter-runner is out if an infield fly is ruled. If the fair ball hits the batter-runner before reaching first base, the ball is dead and the infield fly rule is invoked.
Rule 10 Signals
Section 7 Article L
Body upright, eyes on the ball and right arm extended high into the air with a closed fist. Make a verbal call of “Infield Fly”. If the batted ball is near a foul line, call “Infield Fly if Fair”.
BRICKER
Gary, Erica–we are so glad to be here with you today. You see, normally softball is a force that drives men and women apart. Getting sweaty, breaking your nose, staying out drinking beer after the game–these are the things that normally drive a wedge between partners. And yet we have seen your love blossom over the past few years of B-Squad games.
I remember when Gary started bringing Erica to games. I think I speak for the whole team when I say our reaction was: She’s really hot! For her part, I think watching B-Squad games is a great way to really come to understand a prospective partner. Erica witnessed Gary lose many games…well all the games she witnessed were losses. So she saw her man face adversity. I’m not saying Gary is a loser, I’m saying Gary is NO QUITTER. A great feature of a prospective mate.
So it is with great pleasure that along with the B-Squad and the Tass Kickers, we celebrate Gary and Erica today!
WEDDING VOWS
I Gary, Take you, Erica, to be my wife, my friend and my softball cheering squad. I will cherish those games that you attend in wins and in losses. I will be your companion at the bar after the game and play your favorite songs on the jukebox. I will cherish you for the rest of my life.
I Erica, take you, Gary, to be my husband, my friend and my favorite softball player. I will attend games, though possibly not as much as when we were dating. I will join you at the bar after the game and drink with your friends. I will cherish you for the rest of my life.
ROX THE UMP
By the very limited power vested in me by the Minneapolis Parks and Recreation board, I know pronounce you husband and wife. You may now march to the pitchers mound.
