Wednesday, April 17
Well, fuck you very much. I know this isn’t my personal blog, but instead a chronicle of the athletic feats and defeats of the teams on which I play, but I can’t help but point out the painful, twisted, and personal irony of losing to a team called “Translate This” on the day I return from my vacation to España. What’s that Stephanie? Did you have something to add?
It’s like the universe saw my tired, traveled face and decided it would be a good time to rub it in. Say adios to the sunny runs along Barceloneta, the cones filled with ham, the dreamy and bi-lingual morenos, and my best friend/first baseman Wagebot. Say hello to delays on the tarmac, dirty laundry, and the discretion of Thomas the Ump, who looks like maybe he’s having a bad day. Yeah, you’re back in los Estados Unidos, cariña. Get used to it.
As the away team, the Hoppers had trouble getting our bats started. We jerked and pulled like an old lawnmower, but wound up just smelling like gas. I’m going to assume it was Stu or Jeremy or Alex, or maybe Ricky after eating dairy without one of his idiotic fiction pills to address “lactose intolerance.” Translate This got off to a quick start, however, tallying six runs in the first inning and putting up a few runs here and there throughout the rest of the game.
As always, the Hoppers had fight. We battled back little by little, hitting into the gaps, getting aggressive on the basepath, and just generally hustling. We kept huffing and puffing but just couldn’t blown the house down. It wasn’t for lack of effort. With two outs in the fifth inning, we clawed within two runs. Josh Bard mashed a potato that went under the fence as he rounded third (that dude can motor). Rules are rules and a dead ball should advance the runner one base, sending him home. Hell, if they had tried to field it cleanly, he could have done a victory lap. But instead, he was instructed that he should hold up at third. And as Dubie grounded to short, he appeared to beat the throw to first. But who am I? Just a biased observer with two eyes.
I’m not one to blame umpires or refs. (Certainly not out loud.) I think you mostly earn the outcome of a game, and if you can’t overcome the obstacles in your way, well (a) you didn’t do all you need to win and (b) you’d make a terrible hurdler. And so, I’ll blame myself.
I probably shouldn’t have left Spain. I should have just stayed there. Wouldn’t we all have been better off?
The Hoppers fall to 3-2 in the division, the roughest start in several seasons. But as Dr. Schollenberger, the cool high school science teacher I didn’t have, once said, “Good teams… finish.” And that’s what we intend to do. The Hoppers take the field against the [appropriately] self-deprecating Scrubs today at 7pm. We’re still very much in the playoff hunt, where anything can happen.
And, in better news, we celebrated spring with a BBQ at Dubie’s house. You know what makes everything better? S’mores, suckaaaa.