This is self indulgent, but, "Hey! It's social media!"
So, I'm waiting for the last load of laundry to finish so I can pack 2017''s final bag as we prepare to leave for college. It's late here and everyone's asleep except me and the wacko golden retriever who keep nudging my hand with her nose, trying to get me to pet her.
I asked 2019 and 2022 (love using these #s; so much more efficient than names) earlier if they thought they'd miss 2017 and 2022 pointed at 2019 and said, "yeah, now I have to hangout with him." 2019 said, "lucky you." Ah, brothers.
Last night 2017's adult rec league team, made up almost entirely of his fellow just-graduated HS teammates went through a barnburner of a game for the summer championship. It was game 2 of a best two out of three and our team had won the first game last weekend. The team we played, the Golden Sombreros, wearing vivid yellow jerseys (ugh) was at least an average 5 yrs older, they were aggressive at the plate, above average on defense, but their pitching was below par: erratic control and velocity. The game went back and forth with each team having big innings, I mean really big. We were home team and headed into the bottom of the 8th, we were down 17-13--not a typo-- not only short of innings, but, literally, time as well, as the park lights shut off at 9;45PM. 2017 led off with a looping double to right center, stole third, and scored on a base hit by the next kid. Eventually, we got within one run, bases-loaded, with two outs, and there had been two pitching changes in that inning alone. Our #2 hitter walked, forcing in the tying run and bringing our best hitter to the plate, a kid who, as a freshman last year, played part time for the D3 national champions. Quickly down 0-2, he fouled off the next seven pitches. Two balls. Another two fouled off. Clock ticking, more balls fouled off, and then finally a fair ball but just a tiny little pop up to the second baseman. Game is tied at 17 and we're heading into the ninth. But, wait, the umpire calls time, and beckons both coaches to the plate. Arm gestures, pointer fingers aimed at wrists, laughter, nodding of heads, shrugs of shoulders, and then our coach turns to our stands and says, "Anyone got a quarter?" Turns out, no new inning could start after 9:30 pm, and it was 9:35. Coaches talked and were told by the umpire that they could get the teams together the next day and play until there was a winner. If a game 3 was needed, it would be right after. But, then both coaches admitted that they were out of pitching, AND about 1/3 of Kai's team was leaving for college the next day! So, the umpire agreed to a coin flip to determine the winner. One guy in that yellow jersey with his kid in his arms on one side of the plate repping the other team, and the whole bunch of our guys in mismatched dark jerseys on the other side of the plate, all of them out there waiting anxiously. The umpire steps in the middle of the crowd, shows everyone the coin, then flips it and lets it land in the dusty batters box. The boys lean forward expectantly, the guy with his baby just waits, a little away from the action. Then there's this massive eruption from our team and the dad with his kid turns and walks toward the visitor's dugout, while our team jumps up and down as if they'd won the World Series. I will say it was pretty dramatic for what was essentially a beer league game, minus the beer. Those few moments while the coin was shone to everyone, then gets flipped, then lands in the dust, with 15 HS kids leaning down, peering at the ground as if they're looking through an electron microscope, well, it wasn't Iowa but it was some kind of beautiful. Very pure moment and a great one to have just before we take 2017 up to school.
Sorry so long, but I warned you!
