Greg, take the day off. This will take all day.
It's going to be long...
I just returned from camping this weekend. Story follows. And then the rest of the Conehead story.
There is a magical place in the foothills of the gold country. You take I 80 up to Auburn, and take a right on the Foresthill Ravine Road. That road follows the Foresthill ridge that separates the north and middle forks of the American River. So you have a paved road going to Foresthill, that more or less parallels I 80 going up to Tahoe.
But if, in the middle of town in Foresthill, you turn down Gold St., and take the Yankee Jim's fork a block later, you wind down the hill to a lost place that no one has ever heard of - Shirttail Canyon. It's just around the bend from the American River where kayaks recreate all the time, in fact Yankee Jim's Road crosses the river a few miles later. But if you turn right at the intersection of Yankee Jim's and Shirttail Canyon Road, built by Chinese workers in the gold rush days, you enter this magical land.
Steep canyoned forest filled with sugar pines, cedars, red pines and jeffrey pines, a gurgling creek with whispering alders and whistling willows in the middle and almost no one living there. You can't really believe you are only about eight miles as the crow flies from Interstate 80. As the dirt flies behind you on the road, you can actually feel like you are miners during the gold rush driving a wagon across the ruts. That part of the canyon is about five miles long. The creek is about 1500 feet elevation and the top of the canyon on each side rises to about 3200 feet within a mile. That's pretty damn steep.
You see I spent time there in the 70's. I stumbled across someone who resembled Merlin the magician that had friends that turned him on to a swimming hole on Shirttail Creek. After visiting the Canyon, he decided to build a cabin there, and moved there not even knowing who owned the land. His name was Holly and he and his lady Gayle and their friends carried all the wood down the steep canyon trails one board at a time. Their philosophy was that if they finished and got to spend one night in the cabin, it would have been worth it. Instead, after they finished, no one showed up for a year and a half, and they lived pretty much unbothered by any outsiders in that lost place. They lived on food stamps, and made willow furniture that they sold in flea markets to pay for their gas for their weekly trips to get supplies. I met Holly through a roommate and ended up spending much of a summer there and weekends for a couple of years. I even built a teepee to stay in while in the canyon.
The land was eventually bought by a foreman with the phone company - then called Pacific Bell. He bought it because they were supposed to put in the Auburn dam on the American River, and it would make Shirttail lakefront property 25 miles upstream. This plan failed when they cancelled the dam, but Bill Hayes decided to build his dream retirement home up there, and needed a caretaker to look after his 'equipment' - he brought in caterpillars and who knows what else. So for a time he allowed Holly and Gayle to stay there in their simple home, but during my time there, I could sense the tension building.
I had some great times with friends from the Bay Area up there and friends of Holly and Gayle's, but the important times were when I was up there just watching the creek idle by, or the pines swaying in the breeze, or hear the birds singing their songs - at one point I could hear birds move a half mile away, I swear, as I became attuned to the sounds of the forest.
"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences" (Paul Simon)
After a couple years I let go my lease on the property I rented for the summers and weekends, gifted the teepee to Holly and Gayle, graduated college, got married, bought a house and so on, and entered into 'grownup life'. I went back once or twice, and each time it was getting more disturbingly 'civilized.' The last time I was there was 20+ years ago; Holly had moved away, and Bill Hayes' son had built a shack on the landing on the road down to the creek. When I arrived that time, he had a generator going and loud rock music blasting through the canyon. It was quite disturbing.
I say all this because about a month or so ago, I heard that there was a big forest fire going called the Robbers' fire, and it was in a place called Shirttail Canyon. It was called the Robbers fire, because one of the turnouts on Yankee Jim's Road was apparently used in the last century by robbers watching the travelers come down the road from the American River. Last month at that location, some idiot was there with his kids shooting off bottle rockets, and one caught the forest on fire. The fool tried to douse the fire with beer, because that's the only liquid he had with him; when it started to spread wildly in the tinder dry brush, he took off. Thirteen million dollars fighting a raging blaze that covered thousands of acres in that remote canyon and a week and a half later, they got the fire out, and arrested the moron. He is facing not only arson but a slew of other charges including child endangerment.
I was fascinated, and tortured by the google map images of the fire I could find. The fire area consumed my own little paradise of my past. I felt this uncontrollable urge, I just had to go see how much of the Canyon burned up.
So this weekend I went up to the area, camped a few miles upstream on a newish reservoir that was built in 2003, and headed down Yankee Jim's Road to the canyon on Saturday afternoon. There was a sign that said, "Local residents only; Area patrolled by the Sheriff", a remnant of the recent fire. Well, I was kind of a local from another time, and I pushed on. Flooded by memories, the canyon emerged before me.
At this point, I pause to remind you that there is a lesson I learned here, and there is a connection to the Coneheads; have patience and read on and you will get to the punchline.
The fire damaged the Canyon pretty much as I expected. There was total devastation on one steep hillside at the entrance to the Canyon; the further we got up the Canyon, there were fewer burned out spots, and more of the green mountain ridge I remembered. As we approached the gate to the land where Holly dwelt, there were two pickups coming up the other direction on the narrow dirt road. There was no room to pass. I started to back up to try to find a wide spot on the road, but that was pretty much hopeless. Instead the pickups hit reverse themselves and backed up to the gate area.
This discombobulated me; I passed the gates, thinking the right place was around the next bend. As we headed further, it became apparent we were going to leave the Canyon soon; we were climbing out of it. In fact that had been the place. So we turned around and went back.
Memory is a funny thing. Your memories are so clear, yet your mind transforms the reality over time and things change, and you remember something different from what actually was. And then on top of it, things change over the years and decades. New gates are added, new roads are plowed, structures are built and structures disappear. The reason I thought that gate was the wrong place was that there was a second gate as well, that led to a road that went down to the creek on another path. I either didn't remember it, or it had been added in the intervening years.
We parked and walked around the gate, and headed down the road. As I approached the creek, it seemed like the right place, but I couldn't be sure. I headed over a road to where I had built the teepee, but there was a road there, not a trail, and there were little shacks built, like three of them. I went down to the creek to where Holly's cabin would be across the creek, and there was nothing there. Instead there was a bridge crossing the creek, which had a sign saying it was constructed in 1983. But there was no cabin on the other side. Furthermore, where it should have stood was a grassy area, and my memory had his cabin in a flat area surrounded by dirt. It just didn't seem right.
Just when my doubt was at its highest, and I had convinced myself that we were in the wrong place and we must have passed another gate downstream, I caught sight of something. You see back in the old days, in the winter when the creek was high and was more a river than a creek, and you couldn't cross it on the rocks, the only way across was this seat Holly had hung on a cable that stretched across the creek. It had pulleys and someone pulled you across. Just as I was about to give up, I discovered the cable was there, still connected on both sides of the creek - still completely intact. And the old wooden half broken step built so you could reach the seat. In fact THIS WAS THE PLACE.
But the cabin was gone. We crossed the rickety bridge, and as we inspected the area, we found one piece of wood with a nail in it. That was all that remained. It seemed a little charred. Did the cabin burn up? Did Bill Hayes plow it down after Holly left? These are questions that will have to go unanswered. I walked over to the upstream part of the creek, and stared over to where I had built the teepee. There were now two small shacks there, ugly little ramshackle shacks, and three or four roads had been built over there. As I stood there, a car actually drove by. It said, "Ranger" in big letters across it. Well there was the Sheriff patrolling, and now I was trespassing.
"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you"
We crossed back over the creek, and stood by those shacks, and I tried to imagine how peaceful it was, oh so many years ago. And there was nothing but the image of the Patrol Car that came back; there was no reason to stay any more.
We were able to walk up one of the new roads back up to the main road; it made the trip up the hill much easier. We passed the son's house; there were old appliances scattered across the yard in front of it. Just ugly.
So what is the lesson here. You could say it is that you can't go home any more. The Canyon itself had changed more than my memory of it. It was paradise no more. But I think it is something else, and this is where our team and our time come in. That is, you have to enjoy the good times and even the bad to the fullest extent when they occur. Appreciate what you have NOW. We have a talented team and but more important great friendships, and that is why we are a great Team. Hold that dearly.
And so, were there games last weekend? In fact there were.
The opening game of course was a gimme against Santa Maria Reds. We earned that the previous week by finishing off the Waitlisters to claim first place. The first inning was a premonition and a symbol for this year's tournament. We shut out the Reds, and came up to bat and had a Conehead inning right off the bat (get it?).
Chuck started it off with his first of many hard luck outs. And I say he started it off because even though he had an off year in these playoffs, I wouldn't trade him for any other leadoff hitter or SS. Then we had eight straight hits. Punctuated, of course by a three run Chop. Lefty drove in the first run, and later added a two run double, starting him on his way to a team leading ten RBIs in the four game weekend series. Derek hobbled his way to a 3-3 continuing his hot hitting from the regular season, and starting his way to a team-leading .833 average for the playoffs.
Then we played a real game, against the Scouts, who also had won their first game. In our second Conehead inning, a 13 run second, Joe got a huge three run triple with Larry running. Poor Larry - he made the first two outs, and had to run for Derek, then Joe, then Derek again, all with a sore hammy. Craig went off with a grand slam, and ended the day with nine of his ten RBIS, and G had a solo shot. The game was over at that point, and the score ended at 21-4. No contest. Gene was 3-3 with two doubles and a great catch in LF. Heffe, Craig, Greg, Ol' G, and Haze also had three hits, and Larry, when he caught his breath from pinch running had a three run homer in the four run fourth.
In the mean time cocky Pennini's was the other hot team in the playoffs, just like last year. Only this year they were undefeated and had roundly beaten us in the regular season. They were so sure they would win, they brought Champagne this year. Showdown II was set up for Sunday morning.
So what did we do? We saved our third Conehead inning for the opening frame of the opener Sunday. We lost the flip, and this time Chuck did start us off, with a walk. As documented in Part I, Sting was back in his 'neighbor' spot, and we welcomed him back happily as he doubled Chuck to third and we were in business. The next five hitters reached base, and we batted around and plated nine altogether. Nice start.
In the bottom of the first Chopper made what was the defensive play of the day at that point - a drive to right that he picked out of the air at full speed. It held them at two runs for an answer. We added two in the second, and Gerry made an incredible catch on a pop up to keep Pennini's at one in the bottom half. These are the kinds of plays that win championships, although Pennini's made some incredible plays of their own robbing us, in particular former JFTer Mark Hayes and their left center fielder. On one in the first the latter dove to make a catch on a sinking liner by Don, but the ump ruled a trap. It led to some heated arguing, and that is where Ol' G woke up. We nearly had to tear him off the jerk coaching third base who wasn't even playing at that point, but tried to pick a fight.
We let them creep back, at one point it was 11-8 and another 13-10 and then 14-11. But thanks to a new phenomenon called the Cripple Tripple, we managed to stay even the rest of the game and our early lead stood up as we finished at 18-15. The Cripple Tripple, sometimes also called the Gimple Triple is where Derek hits the ball into the right center gap, and gimps to first, then limps to second, then gimps to third. Then after he scores and can barely walk to the dugout, asks if he can go out and play first base. Gamer. This happened twice in the last three innings. And got us three runs the second time to salt the game away.
In this game Greg the Knight had a home run and drove in four, and Sting had a solo shot hit almost to the lower field. Derek led the way with four hits and Knight, Sting and Heffe had three each.
Then we had the pleasure of waiting for Pennini's and the Pretenders...er I mean the Waitlisters to settle things in the losers' bracket. The Waitlisters nearly pulled off the upset, and Pennini's only won by one. So as expected we would have to beat them twice in one day.
Well, as usual the loser bracket team on this day was all pooped out. Pennini's had nothing left to solve Joe's curve balls and mixture of high and low and in and out and short and deep.
And we of course had the Ol' G inspiration; As written in Part I, he gave everything in getting that out in the first, and bravely tried to continue, and then sat while we all tried to show as much guts as he did. It worked; our defense was nearly impeccable. Chopper almost made the most amazing catch in deepest right field on a ball just smashed by Hayes. It was almost over the deep fence in that right field. He didn't quite get it, but it showed where we would go to live up to G's example. Likewise with two outs in the seventh, I had a flash of near heroism as I slid down to try to nail a popup near Pennini's dugout to end the game. But the ball eluded me. Luckily, as we were only up by four runs the hitter then finished the game by popping up, I think to Chuck and there was joy once again in Coneville.
We only scored five ourselves and won 5-1.The game was 0-0 through 2 1/2, and 1-1 after 3 1/2. In our fourth, we almost were out, but Lefty once again came up big with a two out double and we put together a good two out rally with singles by D, Heffe, and Larry. And that was it for the scoring, in a game of softball, a 5-1 lead held up after four innings.
And speaking of heroes, Larry should be called out for his defense in replacing Ol' G. It's never easy to play on turf when you aren't used to it, and he made several difficult plays, and almost as importantly, you have to play so deep, it is hard to get to second in time on force outs fielded by Greg and Chuck. He was there for us when G went down, and he was there every time, on every play.
And so it goes in the continuing Conehead saga, another great season, and now two in a row finishing off the pretenders. How sweet it is. You can't go home any more but this is sure a hell of a great Place.
Milestones:
Game 1
Gene 200 g (#9)
Lefty 10 bb (#19)
Game 2
Larry 400 rbi (#4)
Don 350 rbi (#10)
Derek 150 h (#18)
Haze 10 2b (#27)
Game 3
Chuck 750 r (#1)
Heffe 500 rbi (#3)
Heffe 550 r (#3)
Lefty 100 h (#21)
Game 4
None except, of course
Team 7 Championships
It's going to be long...
I just returned from camping this weekend. Story follows. And then the rest of the Conehead story.
There is a magical place in the foothills of the gold country. You take I 80 up to Auburn, and take a right on the Foresthill Ravine Road. That road follows the Foresthill ridge that separates the north and middle forks of the American River. So you have a paved road going to Foresthill, that more or less parallels I 80 going up to Tahoe.
But if, in the middle of town in Foresthill, you turn down Gold St., and take the Yankee Jim's fork a block later, you wind down the hill to a lost place that no one has ever heard of - Shirttail Canyon. It's just around the bend from the American River where kayaks recreate all the time, in fact Yankee Jim's Road crosses the river a few miles later. But if you turn right at the intersection of Yankee Jim's and Shirttail Canyon Road, built by Chinese workers in the gold rush days, you enter this magical land.
Steep canyoned forest filled with sugar pines, cedars, red pines and jeffrey pines, a gurgling creek with whispering alders and whistling willows in the middle and almost no one living there. You can't really believe you are only about eight miles as the crow flies from Interstate 80. As the dirt flies behind you on the road, you can actually feel like you are miners during the gold rush driving a wagon across the ruts. That part of the canyon is about five miles long. The creek is about 1500 feet elevation and the top of the canyon on each side rises to about 3200 feet within a mile. That's pretty damn steep.
You see I spent time there in the 70's. I stumbled across someone who resembled Merlin the magician that had friends that turned him on to a swimming hole on Shirttail Creek. After visiting the Canyon, he decided to build a cabin there, and moved there not even knowing who owned the land. His name was Holly and he and his lady Gayle and their friends carried all the wood down the steep canyon trails one board at a time. Their philosophy was that if they finished and got to spend one night in the cabin, it would have been worth it. Instead, after they finished, no one showed up for a year and a half, and they lived pretty much unbothered by any outsiders in that lost place. They lived on food stamps, and made willow furniture that they sold in flea markets to pay for their gas for their weekly trips to get supplies. I met Holly through a roommate and ended up spending much of a summer there and weekends for a couple of years. I even built a teepee to stay in while in the canyon.
The land was eventually bought by a foreman with the phone company - then called Pacific Bell. He bought it because they were supposed to put in the Auburn dam on the American River, and it would make Shirttail lakefront property 25 miles upstream. This plan failed when they cancelled the dam, but Bill Hayes decided to build his dream retirement home up there, and needed a caretaker to look after his 'equipment' - he brought in caterpillars and who knows what else. So for a time he allowed Holly and Gayle to stay there in their simple home, but during my time there, I could sense the tension building.
I had some great times with friends from the Bay Area up there and friends of Holly and Gayle's, but the important times were when I was up there just watching the creek idle by, or the pines swaying in the breeze, or hear the birds singing their songs - at one point I could hear birds move a half mile away, I swear, as I became attuned to the sounds of the forest.
"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences" (Paul Simon)
After a couple years I let go my lease on the property I rented for the summers and weekends, gifted the teepee to Holly and Gayle, graduated college, got married, bought a house and so on, and entered into 'grownup life'. I went back once or twice, and each time it was getting more disturbingly 'civilized.' The last time I was there was 20+ years ago; Holly had moved away, and Bill Hayes' son had built a shack on the landing on the road down to the creek. When I arrived that time, he had a generator going and loud rock music blasting through the canyon. It was quite disturbing.
I say all this because about a month or so ago, I heard that there was a big forest fire going called the Robbers' fire, and it was in a place called Shirttail Canyon. It was called the Robbers fire, because one of the turnouts on Yankee Jim's Road was apparently used in the last century by robbers watching the travelers come down the road from the American River. Last month at that location, some idiot was there with his kids shooting off bottle rockets, and one caught the forest on fire. The fool tried to douse the fire with beer, because that's the only liquid he had with him; when it started to spread wildly in the tinder dry brush, he took off. Thirteen million dollars fighting a raging blaze that covered thousands of acres in that remote canyon and a week and a half later, they got the fire out, and arrested the moron. He is facing not only arson but a slew of other charges including child endangerment.
I was fascinated, and tortured by the google map images of the fire I could find. The fire area consumed my own little paradise of my past. I felt this uncontrollable urge, I just had to go see how much of the Canyon burned up.
So this weekend I went up to the area, camped a few miles upstream on a newish reservoir that was built in 2003, and headed down Yankee Jim's Road to the canyon on Saturday afternoon. There was a sign that said, "Local residents only; Area patrolled by the Sheriff", a remnant of the recent fire. Well, I was kind of a local from another time, and I pushed on. Flooded by memories, the canyon emerged before me.
At this point, I pause to remind you that there is a lesson I learned here, and there is a connection to the Coneheads; have patience and read on and you will get to the punchline.
The fire damaged the Canyon pretty much as I expected. There was total devastation on one steep hillside at the entrance to the Canyon; the further we got up the Canyon, there were fewer burned out spots, and more of the green mountain ridge I remembered. As we approached the gate to the land where Holly dwelt, there were two pickups coming up the other direction on the narrow dirt road. There was no room to pass. I started to back up to try to find a wide spot on the road, but that was pretty much hopeless. Instead the pickups hit reverse themselves and backed up to the gate area.
This discombobulated me; I passed the gates, thinking the right place was around the next bend. As we headed further, it became apparent we were going to leave the Canyon soon; we were climbing out of it. In fact that had been the place. So we turned around and went back.
Memory is a funny thing. Your memories are so clear, yet your mind transforms the reality over time and things change, and you remember something different from what actually was. And then on top of it, things change over the years and decades. New gates are added, new roads are plowed, structures are built and structures disappear. The reason I thought that gate was the wrong place was that there was a second gate as well, that led to a road that went down to the creek on another path. I either didn't remember it, or it had been added in the intervening years.
We parked and walked around the gate, and headed down the road. As I approached the creek, it seemed like the right place, but I couldn't be sure. I headed over a road to where I had built the teepee, but there was a road there, not a trail, and there were little shacks built, like three of them. I went down to the creek to where Holly's cabin would be across the creek, and there was nothing there. Instead there was a bridge crossing the creek, which had a sign saying it was constructed in 1983. But there was no cabin on the other side. Furthermore, where it should have stood was a grassy area, and my memory had his cabin in a flat area surrounded by dirt. It just didn't seem right.
Just when my doubt was at its highest, and I had convinced myself that we were in the wrong place and we must have passed another gate downstream, I caught sight of something. You see back in the old days, in the winter when the creek was high and was more a river than a creek, and you couldn't cross it on the rocks, the only way across was this seat Holly had hung on a cable that stretched across the creek. It had pulleys and someone pulled you across. Just as I was about to give up, I discovered the cable was there, still connected on both sides of the creek - still completely intact. And the old wooden half broken step built so you could reach the seat. In fact THIS WAS THE PLACE.
But the cabin was gone. We crossed the rickety bridge, and as we inspected the area, we found one piece of wood with a nail in it. That was all that remained. It seemed a little charred. Did the cabin burn up? Did Bill Hayes plow it down after Holly left? These are questions that will have to go unanswered. I walked over to the upstream part of the creek, and stared over to where I had built the teepee. There were now two small shacks there, ugly little ramshackle shacks, and three or four roads had been built over there. As I stood there, a car actually drove by. It said, "Ranger" in big letters across it. Well there was the Sheriff patrolling, and now I was trespassing.
"Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories, they're all that's left you"
We crossed back over the creek, and stood by those shacks, and I tried to imagine how peaceful it was, oh so many years ago. And there was nothing but the image of the Patrol Car that came back; there was no reason to stay any more.
We were able to walk up one of the new roads back up to the main road; it made the trip up the hill much easier. We passed the son's house; there were old appliances scattered across the yard in front of it. Just ugly.
So what is the lesson here. You could say it is that you can't go home any more. The Canyon itself had changed more than my memory of it. It was paradise no more. But I think it is something else, and this is where our team and our time come in. That is, you have to enjoy the good times and even the bad to the fullest extent when they occur. Appreciate what you have NOW. We have a talented team and but more important great friendships, and that is why we are a great Team. Hold that dearly.
And so, were there games last weekend? In fact there were.
The opening game of course was a gimme against Santa Maria Reds. We earned that the previous week by finishing off the Waitlisters to claim first place. The first inning was a premonition and a symbol for this year's tournament. We shut out the Reds, and came up to bat and had a Conehead inning right off the bat (get it?).
Chuck started it off with his first of many hard luck outs. And I say he started it off because even though he had an off year in these playoffs, I wouldn't trade him for any other leadoff hitter or SS. Then we had eight straight hits. Punctuated, of course by a three run Chop. Lefty drove in the first run, and later added a two run double, starting him on his way to a team leading ten RBIs in the four game weekend series. Derek hobbled his way to a 3-3 continuing his hot hitting from the regular season, and starting his way to a team-leading .833 average for the playoffs.
Then we played a real game, against the Scouts, who also had won their first game. In our second Conehead inning, a 13 run second, Joe got a huge three run triple with Larry running. Poor Larry - he made the first two outs, and had to run for Derek, then Joe, then Derek again, all with a sore hammy. Craig went off with a grand slam, and ended the day with nine of his ten RBIS, and G had a solo shot. The game was over at that point, and the score ended at 21-4. No contest. Gene was 3-3 with two doubles and a great catch in LF. Heffe, Craig, Greg, Ol' G, and Haze also had three hits, and Larry, when he caught his breath from pinch running had a three run homer in the four run fourth.
In the mean time cocky Pennini's was the other hot team in the playoffs, just like last year. Only this year they were undefeated and had roundly beaten us in the regular season. They were so sure they would win, they brought Champagne this year. Showdown II was set up for Sunday morning.
So what did we do? We saved our third Conehead inning for the opening frame of the opener Sunday. We lost the flip, and this time Chuck did start us off, with a walk. As documented in Part I, Sting was back in his 'neighbor' spot, and we welcomed him back happily as he doubled Chuck to third and we were in business. The next five hitters reached base, and we batted around and plated nine altogether. Nice start.
In the bottom of the first Chopper made what was the defensive play of the day at that point - a drive to right that he picked out of the air at full speed. It held them at two runs for an answer. We added two in the second, and Gerry made an incredible catch on a pop up to keep Pennini's at one in the bottom half. These are the kinds of plays that win championships, although Pennini's made some incredible plays of their own robbing us, in particular former JFTer Mark Hayes and their left center fielder. On one in the first the latter dove to make a catch on a sinking liner by Don, but the ump ruled a trap. It led to some heated arguing, and that is where Ol' G woke up. We nearly had to tear him off the jerk coaching third base who wasn't even playing at that point, but tried to pick a fight.
We let them creep back, at one point it was 11-8 and another 13-10 and then 14-11. But thanks to a new phenomenon called the Cripple Tripple, we managed to stay even the rest of the game and our early lead stood up as we finished at 18-15. The Cripple Tripple, sometimes also called the Gimple Triple is where Derek hits the ball into the right center gap, and gimps to first, then limps to second, then gimps to third. Then after he scores and can barely walk to the dugout, asks if he can go out and play first base. Gamer. This happened twice in the last three innings. And got us three runs the second time to salt the game away.
In this game Greg the Knight had a home run and drove in four, and Sting had a solo shot hit almost to the lower field. Derek led the way with four hits and Knight, Sting and Heffe had three each.
Then we had the pleasure of waiting for Pennini's and the Pretenders...er I mean the Waitlisters to settle things in the losers' bracket. The Waitlisters nearly pulled off the upset, and Pennini's only won by one. So as expected we would have to beat them twice in one day.
Well, as usual the loser bracket team on this day was all pooped out. Pennini's had nothing left to solve Joe's curve balls and mixture of high and low and in and out and short and deep.
And we of course had the Ol' G inspiration; As written in Part I, he gave everything in getting that out in the first, and bravely tried to continue, and then sat while we all tried to show as much guts as he did. It worked; our defense was nearly impeccable. Chopper almost made the most amazing catch in deepest right field on a ball just smashed by Hayes. It was almost over the deep fence in that right field. He didn't quite get it, but it showed where we would go to live up to G's example. Likewise with two outs in the seventh, I had a flash of near heroism as I slid down to try to nail a popup near Pennini's dugout to end the game. But the ball eluded me. Luckily, as we were only up by four runs the hitter then finished the game by popping up, I think to Chuck and there was joy once again in Coneville.
We only scored five ourselves and won 5-1.The game was 0-0 through 2 1/2, and 1-1 after 3 1/2. In our fourth, we almost were out, but Lefty once again came up big with a two out double and we put together a good two out rally with singles by D, Heffe, and Larry. And that was it for the scoring, in a game of softball, a 5-1 lead held up after four innings.
And speaking of heroes, Larry should be called out for his defense in replacing Ol' G. It's never easy to play on turf when you aren't used to it, and he made several difficult plays, and almost as importantly, you have to play so deep, it is hard to get to second in time on force outs fielded by Greg and Chuck. He was there for us when G went down, and he was there every time, on every play.
And so it goes in the continuing Conehead saga, another great season, and now two in a row finishing off the pretenders. How sweet it is. You can't go home any more but this is sure a hell of a great Place.
Milestones:
Game 1
Gene 200 g (#9)
Lefty 10 bb (#19)
Game 2
Larry 400 rbi (#4)
Don 350 rbi (#10)
Derek 150 h (#18)
Haze 10 2b (#27)
Game 3
Chuck 750 r (#1)
Heffe 500 rbi (#3)
Heffe 550 r (#3)
Lefty 100 h (#21)
Game 4
None except, of course
Team 7 Championships
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| The Team |
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| The Stink Eye |
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| "My Hero" |
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| Teepee 1977 |
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| Dugout 2012 |
A really beautiful piece of writing. Great job, both on the writing and the Championship!
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