Jason Lindquist (jlindquist) wrote,
Jason Lindquist
jlindquist

So, baseball...

My team finally won a game Sunday. We played two games (not really a doubleheader, since they were against two different opponents,) lost the first one 8-4, and won the second 7-6.

The team we beat was also 0-4, so somebody had to break their losing streak. What a buncha whiny sissy bitches, though. They argued everything. The inning we ran a 4-3 lead up to 7-3, they came out to argue the run count. They constantly argued ball and strike calls. In between innings, we added a player to the bottom of our batting lineup. Seconds later, another one of our players says he's still too hurt from a collision the last inning with the opposing first baseman (who had no play and should've been off the baseline.) It's unacceptable to them for us to change the add we'd just announced to a substitution--and we had no more subs remaining. The plate umpire (I'll get to him and his partner in a second) goes along with this and insists we'll have to take an out every time we get to that slot in the batting order.

Ah, the umpires. No fucking clue. "He brings up a very good point," the plate blue says about that substitution. What that point is, I don't know. This isn't high school, and it sure ain't the pros, so the game doesn't mean anything, it's just a rec league. You'd think that as long as the added player hadn't come to bat yet (the pitcher was still warming up while all this transpired) you'd use some discretion in the interest of a fair and honest game. Nope.

The next inning, we have a player on second, he bolts for third on a wild pitch. The catcher comes up with the ball and throws to third, puts on the tag, the plate umpire calls the runner out. Except the plate umpire can't see what we saw from the third base dugout--the third baseman dropped the ball. The field umpire saw this too. He just stood there. He let us argue with the plate umpire (and the opponents, of course, who were selectively blind) for a couple of minutes before he finally asked his partner for an opinion in exasperation. Our runner was promptly called safe. You'd think the guy would walk over and speak up, in the interest of defusing an argument in an already heated game. Nope.

On the next play, the same runner heads home on a ground ball. The catcher stands blocking the plate (no play is on) and our runner runs him over. I'm thinking he's going to be called out, if not ejected for that--you're required to slide to avoid contact and possible injuries. But time passes, the runner gets up, picks up the batter's bat, and walks to the dugout. Okay, no call, he's letting it slide. Wrong. Just as the runner reaches the dugout, the plate umpire ejects him from the game. Nothing happened in between. I don't know what the hell there was to think about. Make up your damned mind and make a call, don't wait all day for it.

Anyhow, I didn't have too bad a set of games. Nothing special in the first one. In the second, led off the top of the 8th with one out (as the now-departed-and-automatically-out player before me should've led off,) and a one-run lead. The way this game is going, we need runs, so we need baserunners. I whiff on an outside 1-and-2 pitch, and the catcher (who's had trouble all day) drops the ball. Fuck it man, I drop the bat and I'm gone. I'm probably going to be out, but you have to leave the other guy room to fuck up.

Running up the line, I pick up the right fielder and second baseman. Neither is moving hard to back up first, and nobody's covering second. I figure if I see the first baseman jump in the air, the throw is high, and I won't even stop. Sure enough, the brick wall leaps for sky as the ball sails into right. I take the turn on the inside corner of the base and don't even slow down. Someone gets hold of the ball and tries to make a play, but I dive in, in advance of the tag. Landed so damned hard my jaw hurt.

I barely catch my breath by the time they throw the second pitch to the next batter. It's wild, nobody's holding me on, and I'm gone for third. Fuck all, these guys get more rattled every time they make a mistake, might as well keep the pressure up on 'em. Again, I'm on my face, well in advance of the tag. (Why do I even bother wearing sliding shorts? They're useless diving headfirst.) I figure that's enough tempting fate (and the backstop's really short) so I don't bother trying to score on the next passed ball. Which is okay, the next play is a ground ball, enough to score on. Which is also thrown away, so that batter's safe too.

The game ends, and only half of 'em even bother to come out and shake hands. What a bunch of little bitches...
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