This Is The End, My Only Friend, The End . . .

...by which I mean this has got to be the end of this losing streak. Looking at the stats last night, we won five in a row after our Opening Day loss to the Dealers. Now we've lost five in a row. There should be some kind of beautiful symmetry in turning things around while we face the Ghosties for the second weekend straight.

And we got close to winning this last one. In fact I'd say out of the mostly nightmarish losses in the last month and a half, this was the clearly the most winnable. We did what we set out to do at the onset of the game: don't give up first inning runs, and get on the board first. Oh buddy, was we ridin' high. A wave of ecstasy rushed over me when we had an early lead for the first time in forever, but that could also have been the cava, who can say really.

I'm wondering what the hell we did to piss off the baseball gods so much, because that lead just withered away behind extremely questionable defense (and, yes, hey! you guessed it: bad baserunning!). So I guess it's irresponsible to blame the BGs at all then. We are our own baseball . . . demons? Shit, I don't know, you try writing this stuff.

I will say, although it's often a chore (an enjoyable chore but a chore nonetheless) to sit down and spell these things out, it does help to process our team in a more thoughtful (how thoughtful it is is up to you really) and somewhat rational way. There are usually feelings during a game—or during a losing streak more accurately—that are complex: things beyond the scope of angst or frustration or disappointment that become even more difficult to locate after a few at Rock Bar. Occasionally, plopping down in my chair and forcing myself to go through this does help alleviate some of the psychic confusion that accompanies a rough spell.

Occasionally.

Not this time, though. I'm about ready, in fact I am ready, to throw my hands up at this point. I was turning it all over in my head last night. There's this sort of hokey casual street definition of insanity that goes something like "trying the same thing over and over and expecting a different result." Your mileage with the truth of that definition will vary, to be sure. But let's pretend for a moment that it's at least a working definition.

According to that, we are like, batshit out of our minds crazy.

We have got to change things up. Don't take my word for it. The stats are at the bottom of the page (though I suspect most of you scrolled down to look there first); have a look and tell me what you see. I'm pleading with you: we MUST shuffle the deck. Beyond three or four guys in the lineup, I'd argue, am arguing, that everyone get a moved around a bit. Rickey and Bob are the only guys hitting over .300, and while batting average is kind of an old school stat that doesn't really provide a complete picture of a hitter, it is at least a snapshot.

Moving the order around also helps to keep our opponent on their toes. When they play the same exact lineup every game, they know little bunches of shifts in a row. Changing that up makes them get creative in different ways, and may catch them by surprise. That can be the difference in a ball being caught or not, which itself can be the difference in a W or another L.

All I'm saying is, it's the easiest thing to change and what's the harm? We hardly have anything else to lose, really. It's time to change things up, guys. And what if that really were the spark we need so desperately? Anything else would be, well, crazy.

Yeah. You know, I'll wear this one. I will. In the sixth, with plenty of time left to close a small gap of three runs, I unexpectedly lead off with a hustle double over the third base bag. That's runner on second, no outs, and your 3, 4, 5 hitters coming up. You're definitely thinking you're scoring here. But you'd be wrong on this day.

Rickey hits a looping line drive to center, and I, for some reason (could have been Craig yelling "TAG!" ((but no excuses from me))) went back to the bag. At least to bluff a tag and get a throw. But the problem there was when that happened, the ball came in to the cutoff man at short, who then back-doored me and poof! no more runner at second an one out, but bases empty and two outs.

This is the funeral I'm holding for that rally I killed. I try to hold myself as accountable as anyone else. Most of the time.

But I'll be damned if you don't see me trying to gnaw and scratch my way out of this subterranean hell this coming Saturday. I'll be like a Viet Cong comrade with a long series of interconnected tunnels digging my ass out of here, emerging, victorious and smiling, into the forecasted sunshine of Saturday's game.

You do not want to repeat BotB.

Here're your stats.

I've not cropped out the team totals column at the bottom. Uh, have fun checking those out. I'll add that one of the hallmarks of a good hitter, or one with good discipline, is having more walks than Ks. We are ... not doing that as a team right now. Little things to work on, guys, little things to work on.

* I'm not writing any player of the games or plays of the games until we're back in the win column. We're gonna lose as a damn team right now, just how we win as a team, as so totally trite and cliché and dad-vice as that is. Let's win a game and we'll get back to shout-outs.

**Andy hasn't gotten back to me with an A'sC so we'll have to wait til next time.

Thank you for your time. I'm gonna put on some underwear and a shirt now.

Happy visual!

NEXT GAME

Oakland Ghosties

@

29ers

Sat 22 July

Noon

Balboa
BIG REC

Cleaners Soil 29ers, 7-0, Prolong Losing Streak

I honestly—I mean totally, completely, not-just-saying-it-for-emphasis honestly—cannot imagine what possibly motivates The Cleaners and their rotten braintrust to design their team this way in this league every single season. Until the hired goons get bored, that is. They are the tackiest team out there, and it's not close.

I also don't believe for one single second that they "just happen to know" all these unsmiling, unjoyous automatons. These guys are the amalgamation of every 80s movie bully you've ever seen, come to life, unflinchingly throwing baseballs past the league's lineups while The Cleaners' very own defense sits on its heels, doing nothing, looking dumb.

Did you notice that almost no one on the Cleaners defense even gets in the ready position? Did you fucking notice that? I did. They're like, "Why even bother?"

It's gotta be great to play behind one of these guys, man.

I mean, really though. Think of all the people you know. Think of the all the people you know who would be willing to commit to the admittedly arduous PCHL season. Like, make most the games, not even all the games; most of the games. How many people do you have in your mind? Now, how good are they at baseball? As good as more than half the guys on that Cleaners squad?

Am I supposed to believe that by total stupid coincidental luck, the members of the Cleaners all just so happen to know a dude who, yeah man, I mean, I think he might be able to come out and play, I'll ask him, lemme see, OH SHIT yeah dude I meant to tell you he's pretty good, like he wants to pitch mostly, is that cool? And, so, what? This just happened like, five or six times to all the current players? They phoned-a-friend? While the shitty/cool/interesting players they used to have had the common sense to distance themselves from whatever the Cleaners are trying to become now?

The Cleaners players themselves have become so desensitized by the league's completely justified constant complaints season after season that they just demure, look away, offer a wave of a hand and a knowing, pathetic, sad snicker when you confront them. They kick dirt absently, clearly embarrassed but feigning a kind of toughness.

And I'd like to touch on that totally affected, "tough" veneer of having a, in Boof's words, "kinda honest, sorta working class vibe . . . you know? It's like a mixture of musicians, construction workers, and people who work in restaurants. But those are my friends, you know?" I'd at least point out that there is nothing at all honest about the way they are managed.  They elected to bat a 10-man lineup and deliberately sit long-term, albeit very bad, players in order to give more at bats to the rabid "mixture" they've concocted over there in the Richmond. How honest is that? Who does that?

Paul Bonanos. Their bench coach, I guess he is. He does that.

I pulled some quotes of his from the short PCHL documentary that Jason Maze of the Beers made. In a way, I wish I hadn't told you he said these things because otherwise you really would've have absolutely no inclination that they'd escaped his mouth.

• "It's way more important to have good relationships than hostility around the diamond, and a lot of more competitive leagues get that way." 

• "Our league has never really said no to giving someone of very limited skill a shot. I've seen some people out there who really haven't spent much time swinging a bat above Little League, and hadn't done it in a long time, and they did just fine."

• "It's a reason to do something healthy on Sundays."

And while I can't argue that these all sound like very nice things to say, if you know anything about the Cleaners at all, you know this is all dogshit. Utter dogshit. Perhaps the league has never said no to giving a novice a chance, but Cleaners management certainly has. 

Fuck them. 

And in the total off chance that any of them Google their team and somehow end up on this page, know that these are my opinions, Ray's. I play second base. I'm not writing for my team, although it wouldn't surprise me if many of them feel the same way. In fact, I know some of them do. Same as I know a hell of a lot of people IN THE ENTIRE LEAGUE feel the same way.

You see, it was different with the 29ers when we got good. Our talent was horizontally integrated. Everyone on our team had some skill, sure some more than others, but everybody brought something to the table. This guy got on base a lot, that guy had good outfield range, this other guy can hit the ball very far. But we always had the decency to pitch fucking normal dudes. 

The Cleaners went out and fucked all that up. They have a vertically integrated team. That's where a few dudes (although their roster of ringers now is at like, what? Five?) have all the talent, and use it to subvert not only the opponent, but their own god damn teammates as well. When a pitcher is that good, he doesn't give his defense anything to do. And he doesn't give anything for the batter to do. The talent isn't spread around at all.

And I guess that's the kind of league Boof and Paul and whoever else run that shitshow envision.

To which I say fuck that. 

PLAY OF THE GAME: Mike's insane ranging over-the-shoulder, though it was more just like over-the-body, catch on one of their smashers' little foul floaters. Just threw that first baseman's glove out there at the perfectly-timed moment and snagged it right at the end. I had a front row seat for it and felt like I needed to rub my eyes afterward.

DRIVE OF THE GAME (What does Scott even drive?): Scott's very sick oppo line drive. It was the only really hard-hit ball off Whatever His Name Was (despite someone yapping about how "hittable" he is. Ugh ...) and it moved Cam from first to third and looked set to start a rally when . . .

BOTTOM OF THE GDMF BLOG: Goddammit Cam. Seriously bro? Our only start at a rally and you go and get picked off on third? I'm sorry man I know I'm supposed to be going easy on new guys but I really suggest you spend some time on YouTube looking at baserunning videos cos that's a real area in your game that needs like, great and very quick improvement. I say it out of love for the team and no, that's not the reason we lost, but dude. You gotta get that shit together. 

I suck at batting and don't even get on base anyway so it's not like I'm perfect. But I gotta call this stuff out when it's becoming truly problematic. 

See you all tonight. Stats tomorrow.

Scumbums Stunned in Second Straight Loss

This is where we cue the training montage. Neither of these last two losses were humiliating but it helps my narrative to pretend they were, so let's do that. This is where we dramatically tie red and grey striped bandanas around our heads, cut the sleeves off our shirts, and finally "get" what the master was telling us. Now we eat baseball. Now we drink baseball. Everything you do, you do for baseball.

 The Dealers are coming.

 I want to show up tomorrow like a rabid pack of jackals out for PCHL blood and first place. Help me do it. It's not like it used to be, folks. We don't just show up and win games. We need to find a new, renewable source of real competitive fire that I think has been lacking this season. Because we've never really had to have it before, outside of playoffs and championship series.

 But it's not just about making playoffs. It's about doing something the best you can do it. Not to get too "dad" on you, but you know it feels better to do something well than not well. We're not playing our best baseball yet, guys. Which—in a way, a small, silver-lining-type way—is a good problem because we have something to strive for. I know our best isn't behind us. The league has gotten much better, which is great. But we need to remember how we play 29er baseball.

A return to crispy 29er baseball.

***

Oof, reading over the statbook from last Saturday, my God it's sort of incredible it was even close.  The really only compelling section is Drill and Andy's back-to-back RBI singles in the 4th. Large had a long RBI double in the first, too, of course, but other than that it's runs scored on fielder's choices, a dropped third strike. It's time to wake these bats up (mine included, don't worry).

The Dealers are coming.

There's no way around this. Last week when I wrote that I didn't expect our pitchers to throw perfect games every time, yes, that's still true. I didn't mean try to set the PCHL record for walks. I was going back and forth on how to be delicate about the 16 total walks we issued on Saturday, but there's no way to do that. We won't win when that happens. 

By contrast our total lineup

took three walks. (Hey only two strikeouts though!)

When that is happening, when a pitcher is out of control, the plug must be pulled. That's the way it needs to be. We're all still learning, again, myself included, and hindsight is 20/20 (yes McCauley shouldn't have pitched 12 innings), but this really shouldn't be allowed to happen again. 

And hey, that goes for position players, too. If a guy is getting eaten up out there, maybe have him take an inning or two off, reset the head, and then get him back in. Unfortunately, the rules of baseball dictate you can't do that with pitchers, mais c'est la vie. It's important to me that everyone is aware of everyone else's potential sensitivities, very important, and yet at the same time, if one player is actively making the game harder for the team to win, the kid gloves need removing. Nobody came out on their Saturday to stand around watching walk after walk. 

Nobody came out on their Saturday to make anyone feel bad about walking hell of dudes, either. It's just the game, and that's it. 

Let this not be a warning but a kind of meditation on player subs. It seems important I should remind everyone that I'm not the manager so this is just one player's, one former manager's, opinion. I just write my thoughts down. You don't have to read them, and you certainly don't have to agree with them.

Okay.

The Dealers are coming.

The ...

/checks standings

... 5-1, first-place Dealers are coming.

DRIVE OF THE GAME: Combining Will and Andy's back-to-back RBI singles. We asked them to be somebody. They became somebody.

PLAY OF THE GAME: Zack's sick (and very chill) step-and-throw 5-3 double play to end a hairy inning. It was his first of two, by the way. Always great to see a guy shine at a position we've had some trouble with this season.

*HONORABLE MENTION* to BC's insane Superman-style layout and the catch that almost-was. Brian, I guarantee you, you will never, ever, forget that play.

PLAYER OF THE GAME: It's always nice to see Kevin out there. Hell yeah, Kev.

NEXT GAME

Finally at Balboa Park! 

Noon

DEALERS

v

29ERS

Let's get us a fucking win against these chumps, right?

29ers Drop Marathon Game to Cleaners, 4-5 F/12(13?)

The denial stage, admittedly, didn't last long. It was there, oh boy, it was right there: my consciousness making me make sense out of what I'd just seen, with various Tecate- and Parliament-fried synapses firing and misfiring through the tattered wiring of what was left of my extra-inning-addled brain.

Yes, I'd say the denial lasted about five extremely acute seconds and shared a vaguely similar emotional pitch to. . .

. . . "Whaaaaaaaaaaa....???"

What? What was your reaction to that call at the plate? After the denial, yeah you're damn right I went to anger, and right soon after that into bargaining, wherein I tried to find some shred of understanding within myself that could account for such an unaccountable play. 

I think most of you saw the depression stage at Rock Bar after the game. I'm on acceptance now, though! Ayooo!

*** This intro has been brought to you by The Five Stages of PCHL Grief ***

It's hard to even begin to think about summing up this one. It was like a hallucinatory dream where time is bent and frozen and fast-forwarded and the sky never really changed color much which only further provoked that eternal, ethereal anti-awareness covering us all like a giant coastal shroud.  

What I don't want to do is point fingers. That's not helpful to anyone. And yes, that was a blown call at the plate on an extremely fine and totally unexpected relay that allowed them to tie the game (again) but . . . we can't control what the umpires call. As much as we'd like to, you know it doesn't work like that.

What we can control, is baserunning, untimely errors, and walks. As a group, we play as good if not better defense than anyone in the league, so I don't need to harp too much on the defense aspect. And errors are going to happen. They're mistakes; it happens. You cross your fingers and hope it's not at a critical moment, like when the winning run has been walked to third base by a pitcher who's thrown 500 pitches and 13 innings. 

Walks, too, are, of course, unfortunate. But I don't expect all you guys to go out there and throw perfect games. It'd be nice to limit the free bases we give out but it would also be nice if we had had a bullpen we could have put full faith in on Sunday. Sometimes them's the breaks. 

But absolutely, absolutely, what is quickly becoming our nasty little Achilles heel is our baserunning. And I have no idea how to fix it. It's like I see guys going when they shouldn't be, and holding when they should be going. On Sunday, three different guys made baserunning blunders in scoring position in a game where we eventually scored only four runs. That . . . is not a recipe for success. Most times we're gonna get away with that. On Sunday, we didn't. 

I don't want to get in your heads, because I have a feeling that's exactly what's twisting you up to begin with. I'm wondering if maybe we need a smaller group of baserunning coaches out there. But that's not it, either, is it? When you're on the bases, it's just you your instincts. 

We need to calibrate our instincts, here, guys.

(I guess at least you're getting on base.)

1-877-KRON-4-KIDZ PLAYER OF THE GAME: RMac. I wonder if he still has an arm. Dude just went full gamer out there and almost got us to squeak it out. There are complete game loses, and then there's RMac on Sunday. What a stud. We'll get you that next one, brother, I promise.

(Don't fuck up the next one)

DRIVE OF THE GAME: Uh, everything Rickey did. The book is in the equipment bag, which is in the shed, which is not at all in front of me. But Rickey killed it, going 4-6 with at least one double. Hot Flesh, y'all. Hot. Flesh. 

Ugh, I need to take a shower now.

PLAY OF THE GAME: Who cares. The relay was actually the play on which the game hinged, so, sure, PotG right there. BC lining up and positioning himself perfectly to catch and throw the ball right to his cutoff man, who then fired a ROCKET home. Right to the glove. Two full, disgusting steps in front of the runner. Safe.

Infield quietly turned two more double plays, but in the aftermath of the loss, who gives a shit amirite??

***

This has been another installment of Andy's Corner.

***

Nah, not this time. If anything, it's me for writing this garbage. I got one thing on my mind at this point and it starts with Gerle and ends with Creek, so I'm starting my vacation early. Did I phone this one in? Maybe a little bit. The kind of mental effort it would take to reconstruct properly all 13 innings is just, no. And why would I when Andy does it so well in 12 words?

Look, we're still in first place (for now ((those Dealers are lurking though, jeez))). And thanks to the guys who agreed to do your umping duty. Represent us well. You just saw a live tutorial of what NOT to do!

***

NEXT GAME

Saturday 10 June

Berkeley News

@

29ERS

Big Rec

Noon

Get Your Stats Here

Apologies for the formatting on this, I'll try to get it in a better, more user-friendly presentation but for now these are your stats. In a twist surprising absolutely no one, Rickey has been killing it in all major categories. Game recap to come, probably tomorrow afternoon.

N.B.: Please, do not text me unless you see an absolutely egregious mistake somewhere. I've stressed before the importance of keeping a clean book. These numbers reflect what your teammates have written down there. If you think there's a mistake, bring it up with them, or keep book yourself! Sorry but I had to say it. :)

29ERS Hack Back, Stay Ahead of the Pack

Ah, boys. The return of good weather, great vibes, and an uninterrupted series of wins. Anyone else ready for our rematch with the Dealers yet or what? It's a pretty hard life up here on the hill in times like these, just sitting here shirtless, sipping on a gLuTEn-fReE cider, procrastinating doing anything actually productive or worthwhile until the Giants are on in a couple hours. Yup, hard times, these.

And speaking of hard times, eh, how about the uh, hard ... time ... DJ gave the Beers, right guys?! Okay, okay, I'm an idiot, we all know this. But did any of you really think DJ was gonna go out there and throw seven innings of two run ball? Yeah, sure, maybe you thought he'd hit every single person in their lineup (plus I think he pegged a guy in the on-deck circle plus at least one of the Beers' girlfriends) but STILL. And, if you're gonna plunk any team in the league, there's no team that will take it better than the Oakland Beers. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

***

Why don't we take a quick minute to vote? I'm all about democracy and the people's voice being heard, even though I use this blog as mainly a vehicle to basically shout my own opinions about everything at you guys. It's important to me what YOU think. Now . . .

2017 SEASON SICKEST MOMENT SO FAR

All right, so, the game itself started great. Well I got gunned out at the plate on a double play in the first and then DJ beaned Chad with his first pitch BUT BESIDE THAT it started out great. After waiting for what seemed like all morning and probably past noon for our esteemed, sandwich-toting manager to roll in, we got his motivational speech. Was it better than anything Pence ever concocted? Well, no, not at all but it got the lineup pumped. Miles fearlessly asked us all to become

Mmmm. Hackers. Sure, I thought. Hack away, I thought. But Miles had tapped into something primal and raw and urgent in this lineup and didn't shy away from trusting his plums. And it's like I say after every pitch, trust your plums.

With that vague and frankly usually outlandish advice, we hacked. Oh, we hacked, all right. It was a hit parade and a sound game almost all around (Scott might still be caught between third and home as I'm typing this) and I'm proud of you guys. DJ. Gantz. The new Flesh Bat. Calm was restored in the land of 29erdom. But before we get to why you're all really here, let's take a moment to appreciate our new weekly feature, where you'll find a more on-the-field, players' perspective. I present to you:

This has been this week's Andy's Corner.

First, we start with a special shout-out for our Allstate® "ur in good hands"® Great Hands of the Game awarded to Alex Williamson for his bizarrely effective swing on a pitch that nearly ran inside and hit his back foot. I've never seen anything like it and I don't know where he learned it. It was I guess sort of almost comparable to like, a kid pretending to wield a lightsaber while he's, you know, making the whooshing sounds with his own mouth but, I dunno, an adult version of that. On a baseball field. It went for an impressively clean single and Al jogged to first base with the beautiful "I meant to do that" composure we've all come to love him for. With Al, you are in good hands™.

This brings us to the next weekly award, and I'm not gonna lie, it was a tough one. It's kept me up nights, the agonizing. But in the end, the choice made itself: The Legend® by Bob Marley and the Wailers 30th Anniversary Edition [Tri-Color 2 LP] (4 1/2 stars on Amazon.com) PLAY OF THE GAME was Bobby's leaping snag of a smoked liner of the bat of a Beer.

Friends, it's always important after an error to, let's see, how do I want to put this in my own words, okay got it, emancipate yourselves from mental slavery. I've always tried to teach you guys my original and totally personal philosophy that none but ourselves can free our minds. So after Bobby made a low throw for an error after a tough hop when he had plenty of time, I understood what he was going through. You never want to make your pitcher throw more pitches than they have to, especially a guy making his first start. So when the next batter tried to scream one over the Tan One's reach . . . redemption. Sweet, sweet redemption.

***Runners Up included Al's sick ranging catch in right and then throw on the run to second base where Rickey "stretched" to double up the runner and complete the double play. And of course Rickey's  dive on the low liner up the middle that actually required real stretching, not just what your dad calls a stretching.***

I won't waste your time with any build up here in this next section. The 1996 Jeep Classic "Yeah, it's a bumpy ride and gets terrible gas mileage but still gets the job done" DRIVE OF THE GAME: Mine this time. I never thought I'd type it. I don't think I ever had a DotG. Everyone else kinda covers that one and I sort of tally up my singles and hope for a semi-respectable batting average at the end of the year. My first triple in a real, non-All-Star game. And that it cleared the loaded bases? AND that I almost lapped Scott, meeting him eye-to-eye and seeing, staring back at me, the confused and lost visage of a headlit deer? Well, yeah. I'll remember this one for a long time. I still haven't taken off my jock, despite the rash and dark putrid cheese that's begun to form around its fetid strap's edges. Hey, that's baseball, right, guys?!

I have to give a quick shout to Pat, too, for his own stand-up triple. The two of us have been pretty consistent in the past and both had been off to slow starts. Here's to hoping we've both turned a corner, and that when that corner is turned, Scott's not there to friggin' block you from continuing.

:)

And here we are. The 70th track on the US Billboard Hot 100 in June, 2007, and the second single from UGK's fifth studio album Underground Kingz's International Players Anthem (I Choose You) PLAYER OF THE GAME: DJ Honeycutt. Man, you got to love this guy's effort. I was tempted to blurt it out up top but I wanted to make sure everyone stayed for the whole jam. I showed up on Saturday at Lowell at (kid you not) 11.01AM and DJ was already there, cutting it up with Mackey Beers. His baseball bag (AND beers!) were already set nicely in the dugout. He clearly hadn't just arrived. You're not able to notice this kind of effort unless you show up on time, but dude was actually early. I'm often trivially late in my day-to-day life so I'm no saint of punctuality normally, but this gets my attention. Do you need/want my attention? Well, no, but this gets it, anyway. 

When we finally got official confirmation that DJ was getting the start, there was a bit of an excitement running through the dugout, I'm telling you. I don't need to, you were there, but I'm telling you. Then we were told to HACK. It was a good start. And it ended with him getting one of these:

Pray to the game ball gods and you, too, could end up with one of these collecting dust in a random corner next to a dirty sock and a warm beer can with a cigarette butt perched on it

Sure, he hit everyone including a couple fans and a can lady who was just trying to live but still. Seven solid innings, a focused mound presence that you'd think was coming from a veteran, and the hits, well, the hits must be acknowledged. I again don't have the book somehow, but I think he went something like 4-6 and the two outs he hit were rockets, too. Keep it up, Deej, and stay hot.

***

This is what your equipment manager was doing while "coaching" third base. Next time he busts balls, remind him of this picture. 

That said, if you really do know what the hell you're doing out there, party on. This is for experienced coaches only.

***

Ah, /cracks knuckles, time to wrap this thing u—wait, what? Another new weekly feature you say? Oh, right, you don't want to end up here, buddy. The end of the baseball road, the weekly underworld spun with a fine gossamer of bitter swirling winds made up of, uh, game-used jocks and old sunflower shells. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here, etc. It's the . . .

. . .and our special guest this week is Scott. The funky baserunning (ignoring Miles' windmill sending him home) wasn't enough. Oh, no. You had to go and self-props, didn't you? "You guys see those blocked balls?" We did, Scott, we did. We had to. And they were nice. But you went and self-propped, Scott.

Scott, after the first blocked ball, on his way to the BoB

But you didn't stop there. We asked you to call "Balls in" and "Coming down" at the same time. But you didn't like that. An air of sass slowly drifted from behind home plate, mingling briefly with the packed down dirt and geese shit surrounding all of us, toward second. An off baserunning decision. More self-props. Scott was gonna need help getting down here.

Scott, after the second round of self-props, making damn sure he was down here . . .

Of course, I kid. I wouldn't roast you if I didn't like you. But do try to avoid the dungeon down here. It's cold, and moist.

***

All right, this weekend we got Cleaners. Try to get a good BP in on Wednesday if you can, working on that bat speed. Supposedly they grew another ringer out of whatever they got over there in the Richmond and you can bet he'll face us. Will Miles want us patient or hacking? We'll have to wait to find out. A gritty 5-1, boys. Great work.

NEXT GAME

Sunday 28 May

29ERS

@

Richmond Cleaners

Noon, Big Rec

That. Is. Right.

29ERS Over Beers After Close Late Innings

Yeah, I'll take that. I'll take that almost every time. Enough of an early lead to relax the dugout, followed by some nail-biting-ish quasi-excitement towards the end. It got juuust close enough that I felt the ol' jock tighten a smidge, but it's like I always say, "If your jock's not tight, you're playing too loose." But it probably just means you need to do a wash. DJ . . . do a wash.

DJ riding toward the laundromat, bats tucked snugly behind him

I gotta give some credit to the grit the Beers showed, too. Most of you know how easy it is to get down after giving up an early lead, especially a lead that's been manufactured by errors (I don't think there was an RBI until the sixth run came in), but they rallied back at us. Zack pitched well, often navigating The News' Alan's bizarre strike zone (ball zone?) while limiting the hard contact and getting, *cough*, occasional help from his infield (more on that later). That is, until they started tagging the ball, and they did. On Saturday we'll be on their turf, and that really is where they like to swing it. 

The hole there. That's it. That's the strike zone. Just the hole, nothing else. Hole.

Miles came in, and, bless him, Miles went out. This, no, this I can't say was the umpire's fault. Some days you just don't clock into the office right. 'Sappens. It was a disappointment in some small way that the game got as close as it did because I think many of us were ready for DJ to make his pitching debut. I'm down to see it in a close game, too, because why not. I love the predictability of winning as much as the next 29er but you know you'd get a little giddy (McCauly might even get a lil boner) if things were shaken up a bit.

Bobby came in and quieted things down with a nine-out (?) save for his seventh in five games. It's possible, folks, just trust me on this one. He also started a clean 5-4-3 on a hard-hit ball down the line off a backhand. I don't have the book so I can't say exactly who did what and to whom or when but I can crack off a couple of highlights, starting with . . .

SURPRISING NOBODY the Spitz® brand Sunflower Seeds Big Bag™ Cracked Pepper Flavored PLAY OF THE GAME: You ... you knew it was going to come down to this. In the first inning, James Sinclair hit the exact same up the middle low screamer and I dove for it, knocking it down and then "throwing" it like how I would imagine a tipped cow might throw a baseball "toward" first base. 

That ... did not turn out how it looks in my mind before I go to sleep and pray to the lil baseball angels to turn me into Brandon Phillips. Or Javi Baez. Shit, I'll even take Brandon Hicks I'm really not picky but just anyone who can make that play. I got a chance to redeem myself, and by extension, all of us, really, a few innings later when Chad was on first and James again hits the quick low two-hopper just right of the second base bag. I reached out and in an instant couldn't believe it was in my glove but the feeling fleeted WHEN THE BALL MAJESTICALLY FLOATED FROM MY GLOVE TO RICKEY'S. Rickey throws onto first, James throws his helmet. 

Sometimes it's fun to rob guys you like, but let me tell you, NOBODY likes hitting into double plays. Even if they're (the double plays) as goddam sexy as that one was. We even got a "FUCK YOU, Rickey . . . fuck you, too, Ray" from the Beers dugout. Usually that means the 29ers have done good things.

***

The Toyota Corolla "Let's Go Places" DRIVE OF THE GAME: You saw it, and you friggin loved it. Miles absolutely crushed a ball for a stand-up triple into the right-centerfield gap. That ball was nutted, annihilated, rocked, popped, as Miles might say, EEUUGGHHhhgHG'd, roped. I've seen plenty of you guys hit balls hard, but this one got small very, very quickly. At Willard that's a home run. I need to mention that he pulled the ball, too. Miles' pulled ball season counter is now at: 1. Keep it up, skip.

***

No player of the game this time. Team effort, all that. But I want to tell you guys, if you like this #content, keep a good book. Put a star or a little circle on especially noteworthy at-bats. If you're in the dugout and someone makes an incredible play in the field, make a note of the inning and who hit it. Not only am I usually in the field and don't carry a notebook in my back pocket but I'm usually a sixer deep by the time the 7th rolls around. Help me help you. 

 Beers again next week. Let's get it. I'm starting the official lobby for a DJ start right now, with a little Gantz sprinkled in. Let that gather some momentum til Saturday. And have a good practice tonight. I'm mired in papers and finals for the time being. But for now it's time to switch on that Giants game.

NEXT GAME

Saturday 20 May

@

The Oakland Beers

12 Noon /// Lowell Park

/Extremely monster truck voice AND IT'S GONNA BE A SCORCHER

One last thing, because the Beers ALSO have both red jerseys and grey jerseys and have not committed to any kind of systemic way of when they wear which, bring both your GREY AND YOUR RED jerseys on Saturday and we'll wear whichever color they're not wearing. It's happened before where everyone's in the same red jersey and it sucks. You don't know who's a baserunner and who is Cam playing right field for the other team. (Jk.)