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Weeeeeeeeee... Are the Champions, My Friend
That's right, that's right. You're reading an article written by an honest-to-God member of the Santa Monica Tuesday Night C League Community Softball champions.
It wasn't easy. But, we just took it one game at a time, gave 110%, and never gave up until the final out was made (actually, that last one is completely applicable).
Here's what happened. My team ("The Old Look," formerly "The New Look;" this is my first season with them, my first season of organized baseball and/or softball in ten years, in fact, which is why it took me about three months not to be really bad) was seeded second entering the playoffs. We beat whoever the third team was a week ago Tuesday, setting up a final against 14 Below.
Since they had the best record in the league, we had to beat them twice. They only had to beat us once.
We won the first game 23-6, but gave up four or five runs in the last inning. So, 14 Below starts game 2 off with ten runs in two innings, and we're down 10-1 at that point.
We score a few, they score a few more.
It's 13-3 going into the top of the sixth. We're the home team, games go seven innings. Doesn't look good, right?
Well, we scored four in the sixth. Then we held them (a big deal in softball, believe it or not). Surprisingly, we're not demoralized at this point. We could have been, but everyone stayed pumped (I was getting my Mateen Cleaves on, coming off the bench and high-fiving everybody, yelling and jumping around. I wasn't in the field at that point; I alternated innings at catcher, since this was a big game and they weren't about to put me out where I could do any damage. Not that I would have expected them to, the way they saw me play over the course of the season).
So, we're down six runs going into the top of the seventh. Looks bad. We've scored seven runs all game.
Hosway (no idea how to spell it; that's how you say it) singles. Tim Brown, the crafty pitcher with the Robert Parrish knee brace, homers (he bats lefty, so once a game he'll yak one over an unsuspecting right fielder's head). Justin and Bill get hits. Jerry singles. Nobody out, and I step to the plate with that Mookie Wilson, Game 6, At Least Now I Won't Be Responsible For Losing No Matter What I Do carefree attitude. Boom. RBI single.
We scored ten runs in the inning, all told. 14 Below came back and scored three with no out in the bottom of the seventh, and got the tying run on. He was thrown out at second trying to tag on a long fly ball. The game ended when Nick, our shortstop (who had almost been ejected from the game for about the 9,000th time this season for arguing with an umpire), threw out a guy at first base for the first time all game. The kid's got a great arm, but he had to play so deep because of the other team's big bats that they kept beating out their grounders. But they beat out one too few.
You know, it's just community softball. There were only five teams in the league. It's not like we were the '69 Mets or the 1980 US Olympic hockey team.
But, for the second time in my life (my Marshall, Minnesota FCA sponsorship league team the summer before seventh grade being the first), I got to celebrate a championship on the infield dirt. For the second time in my life, I got a tiny, tiny taste of what the real guys must feel when it all comes together and you reach the pinnacle of your particular league. For the second time in my life my team was the best, having just proved it on the field.
For the first time in my life, I got to drink beer afterwards.
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