Big Ben Kehl was in unfamiliar territory—the infield. Worse yet he drew the Short Stop position which is the most unforgiving assignment in softball. The best night at Short is one without injury and multiple humiliating plays. The worst night at Short is a beating that one wouldn’t wish on an enemy.
Short Stop would have been fine if the sun wasn’t scarring his retinas like a blow torch. If he pulled his hat down and pushed his sunglasses back he could faintly make out the silhouette of the batter and the ump. But his only hope to field a ground ball was if it rolled slowly on the actual ground directly to him.
So when a Bomber Batsman drilled the ball directly at Ben he was concerned. Perhaps the ball was clear over Ben’s head, but it could be waist high. Impossible to tell, impossible to know how to respond. “I considered jumping for the ball,†Ben recalled, “but I was afraid it would smash me right in the face.†So Ben did what any reasonable substitute short stop would do: he flinched, hoping the ball would go by him without serious injury.
From my vantage point in shady right field this looked like a pretty strange decision. I could see what Ben could not see—the ball was a few feet over his head, easily snagable. I didn’t understand that the ball was indistinguishable from the sunspots that Ben would see well into the next day. As the ball sailed over his head and into the outfield, I thought what any administrator of an E-League softball team that hasn’t won a game in years and years would think: “That’s a new one!â€
There are a limitless number of ways to see a game slip out of your hands. There are the athletic accomplishments of your competitors, your own fielding foibles small and large, mental errors, enthusiastic base running, general malaise, specific malaise, weather and just plain old bad luck. The list is endless and while our goal is not to explore every single permutation, it is worth noting the new and interesting moments where things run astray.
This week’s game was a heart-breaker with its own twists and turns. We had an amazing fan base on hand to witness the wreck, including our special guest and secret weapon Grandma Gail who threw out the first pitch. Joining us were parent representation for Oosterhuis, Bernard and Andersons, Sheri in a cast, Suz with kids, Teresa with Henry who celebrated his third B-day, the Xenos crew, Phoebe, Lori and perhaps others. The crowd was rowdy and roaring when several rallies put the B-Squad up shortly and then within striking distance of a win.
Which brings us to the heart-breaking last inning. It is hard to go back over that one but science requires a dispassionate report of the final moments of hope and disaster. We entered the inning down a few runs—perhaps four—with plenty of enthusiasm to bat around, chalk the runs, the win and head happily to the bar. The game had been back and forth and we knew it was possible. Though it was less possible after we quickly drew two unfortunate outs.
Then we kicked off an amazing rally. Several hits, including my own modest effort which I believe will later be recorded as a fielding error, loaded the bases. Zin stepped confidently to the plate, knowing that a hit scored a run and a big hit could possibly tie the game. He digs in and patiently takes the first pitch. Then he smashes the second pitch with such violence that everyone had the same thought: that is out of here!
As the ball flew deeper and deeper in right center hope grew. But wait! A fielder in running like crazy and twisting around stumbling raising his hand and grabbing the ball before falling backwards. The cheers of the Bombers were drown out by the giant depressing exhale of the B-Fans who had been holding their breath.
The brilliant and talented outfielder from the Bombers may have been unaware of what he was doing when he grabbed that ball. He was doing what we all do, though not always with such dramatic results, he was chasing the ball and trying to catch it. He wasn’t trying to break Grandma Gail’s heart. He wasn’t trying to suck the wind out of Zin’s sails. He wasn’t trying to ruin little Henry’s third birthday.
I’m not sure who remarked later that if he had missed the ball that we would have raised him to our shoulders and carried him to Dusty’s for a night of free beer and magical Italian meat sandwiches. Perhaps we’ll travel that path in future game. For this week we just put another note in the “That’s a New One†notebook and move on.
Strike Out Cape: Douggie Softball earns up a week full of cape goodies for an outstanding night at the mound with multiple strike outs. Congrats, Doug!
[...] As many of you will recall, Grandma Gail Night was a huge success. As long as “huge success” means that warm feeling you get playing ball on a perfect night in front of a huge group of fans who wince when you let the game slip from your grasp yet again. [...]