Sometimes I swear I am clairvoyant. Others call me deranged but that's a story for another time.
When the Oaks came up in the bottom of the sixth with us up four runs, I remember thinking, it wouldn't be so bad if they got the maximum five runs in the bottom of the sixth, because that would get through the bottom of the lineup, and use up their top and middle, their best hitters, and we would trail just one run going into the seventh. If we could re-grab the lead, then we would be facing the bottom of the lineup in the last inning.
There's two ways to look at what happened. One is I could see the future.
Or - lesson learned - you never wish for the opponent scoring. We came dangerously close to blowing this game, which we needed badly after a tough one run loss to the defending champs the week before.
But I get ahead of myself.
We showed a lot of character getting to that point. We were down 5-3 after three innings, and had left Chris on third after a leadoff triple. We then came roaring back as eight guys in a row reached safely in the fourth. the maximum five runs without recording an out. Big bases loaded two run hit by Tom.
So there we were up 9-5 going into the sixth. The bottom of the Oaks' lineup up. And there stood Big Ron. And by big I don't mean just tall. Ron has to be close to 400 pounds. We (Sir Guy, our pitcher, and me) have a lot of history with Ron. He's an umpire, has been umping in Pleasanton nearly as long as Guy and I have been playing there, which is like a hundred years. He never passes an opportunity to antagonize us, me personally. We never know if his bad calls are on purpose or just lack of judgment. Bill goes back even further with him - they coached against each other when their sons were in little league. The Hatfields and the McCoys (and if you saw him you would know what I mean).
Ron plays for the Oaks now. He can't hit the ball more than 50 feet, and he can't outrace a snail. I would make fun of him except for the fact I can't hit much further and can't run much faster. But at least I can more often than not fool the other team and get on base.
Not Ron. And there was Sir Guy, ready to induce a weak grounder out of him. But then -
Bill couldn't throw a strike. Ball One, Ball Two, Ball Three Ball Four. Why does it always happen to the best pitchers - they can't throw strikes to the weakest hitter on the opposing team.
And then - Bill still couldn't throw a strike. And he walked one, two, three, how many more? I think he walked in runs three altogether.
Now Bill and I have been playing on one or two teams together for 32 years. That is nearly a third of a century. As a stats slut, I can tell you that we have played approximately 750 games together - I have stats going back to 1986 on our teams. I have never seen him walk more than three in a game. Two in a game is a headline, three is a banner. Now he walks four or more in an inning, I can't recall the exact count, it was like the twilight zone, and time stood still.
So the Oaks get their one run lead, and Sir Guy is worried about the seventh. But we picked him up and got a three run lead in the top of the seventh. Could have been more but it was enough to play with.
People write poems about baseball because the game has such poetry intrinsic in it. Or maybe just that it reflects life. In the end, the Oaks got a little rally going, they scored one, and had two on and two outs. Tying run at first, and who stepped up as the winning run? Big Ron. He tried to draw another walk, but Bill was having none if it this time, Ron had to swing and took a mighty cut and hit a one hopper right back to Bill. Bill came to first with the ball himself, no way could Ron outrace him, in fact he had stopped when Bill fielded it. Bill may have wanted to take the out himself to rub Ron's nose in it, but truth be told, he was afraid of throwing it away with the sudden control problems he had. Game over, just another 13-11 win.
Is that poetry or what?
I've got to say, I saw it coming out that way the whole time.
When the Oaks came up in the bottom of the sixth with us up four runs, I remember thinking, it wouldn't be so bad if they got the maximum five runs in the bottom of the sixth, because that would get through the bottom of the lineup, and use up their top and middle, their best hitters, and we would trail just one run going into the seventh. If we could re-grab the lead, then we would be facing the bottom of the lineup in the last inning.
There's two ways to look at what happened. One is I could see the future.
Or - lesson learned - you never wish for the opponent scoring. We came dangerously close to blowing this game, which we needed badly after a tough one run loss to the defending champs the week before.
But I get ahead of myself.
We showed a lot of character getting to that point. We were down 5-3 after three innings, and had left Chris on third after a leadoff triple. We then came roaring back as eight guys in a row reached safely in the fourth. the maximum five runs without recording an out. Big bases loaded two run hit by Tom.
So there we were up 9-5 going into the sixth. The bottom of the Oaks' lineup up. And there stood Big Ron. And by big I don't mean just tall. Ron has to be close to 400 pounds. We (Sir Guy, our pitcher, and me) have a lot of history with Ron. He's an umpire, has been umping in Pleasanton nearly as long as Guy and I have been playing there, which is like a hundred years. He never passes an opportunity to antagonize us, me personally. We never know if his bad calls are on purpose or just lack of judgment. Bill goes back even further with him - they coached against each other when their sons were in little league. The Hatfields and the McCoys (and if you saw him you would know what I mean).
Ron plays for the Oaks now. He can't hit the ball more than 50 feet, and he can't outrace a snail. I would make fun of him except for the fact I can't hit much further and can't run much faster. But at least I can more often than not fool the other team and get on base.
Not Ron. And there was Sir Guy, ready to induce a weak grounder out of him. But then -
Bill couldn't throw a strike. Ball One, Ball Two, Ball Three Ball Four. Why does it always happen to the best pitchers - they can't throw strikes to the weakest hitter on the opposing team.
And then - Bill still couldn't throw a strike. And he walked one, two, three, how many more? I think he walked in runs three altogether.
Now Bill and I have been playing on one or two teams together for 32 years. That is nearly a third of a century. As a stats slut, I can tell you that we have played approximately 750 games together - I have stats going back to 1986 on our teams. I have never seen him walk more than three in a game. Two in a game is a headline, three is a banner. Now he walks four or more in an inning, I can't recall the exact count, it was like the twilight zone, and time stood still.
So the Oaks get their one run lead, and Sir Guy is worried about the seventh. But we picked him up and got a three run lead in the top of the seventh. Could have been more but it was enough to play with.
People write poems about baseball because the game has such poetry intrinsic in it. Or maybe just that it reflects life. In the end, the Oaks got a little rally going, they scored one, and had two on and two outs. Tying run at first, and who stepped up as the winning run? Big Ron. He tried to draw another walk, but Bill was having none if it this time, Ron had to swing and took a mighty cut and hit a one hopper right back to Bill. Bill came to first with the ball himself, no way could Ron outrace him, in fact he had stopped when Bill fielded it. Bill may have wanted to take the out himself to rub Ron's nose in it, but truth be told, he was afraid of throwing it away with the sudden control problems he had. Game over, just another 13-11 win.
Is that poetry or what?
I've got to say, I saw it coming out that way the whole time.
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