I don't have too many thoughts on the Cleveland series this weekend. I was back in Minnesota for a few days, in the wonderful city of Truman, so I didn't get to follow the games too closely. It is good to see that the Twins won the series and that Denard Span is going to soon expand his talents to walking on water and saving dying babies. With the White Sox coming into town this week, I will be able to watch the Twins in live action. There may even be a running diary of the games (I know my three readers will be excited), maybe even two posts in the same day. Ooooooo.
Back to my weekend. My friends and I are active participants in Truman's town festival, which is very creatively called Truman Days. We have traveled to southwest Minnesota since 2000 for the softball tournament, lawn games, parade, street dance, and the destruction of the Truman Legion. Our softball team is comprised of a collection of good athletes that just can't seem to play softball. We do spend most of our time in the field sweating out booze and thinking about the next time we can start drinking again, but still we should be better. I don't think that we won a game in the tournament until our third or fourth year.
Theme for the Raging Monkeys next year?
The major news for me is that after 7 years of playing catcher, I transitioned to right field for the first time. I have no softball experience outside of Truman Days, so this is a major event in my life.
1) First time I had sex,
2) First time I tasted booze,
3) Playing right field in Truman,
4) Graduating college.
Needless to say, when I took the jog out into right I felt a little pee come out. This was swiftly followed by a need to poop when the first ball was hit in my direction. The first ball was a little bloop that I threw to the cutoff man. I was feeling good. One play down and I had done everything correctly. A few innings later another ball was hit that I tracked down and caught. What was happening? I started getting a little bit of confidence. A little swagger in my step. I had visions of climbing the fence and stealing home runs.
As this is happening, a ball is hit in my direction. Runners are on first and second, and I can already see myself gunning someone out at home. I start charging the ball to have it bounce and take a 90 degree hop in the opposite direction. I collapse in a heap and watch the ball roll to the fence. I get up and throw the ball in. Two runners had scored, but in my head I'm thinking, "Not your fault. The ball took a bad hop. You are still the greatest right fielder of all time."
A few innings go by. We are hanging around with this team, but we need a few good defensive plays. The lone lefthanded batter comes up to the plate and I correctly shift. Two outs, runner on first. Our shortstop is yelling at everyone that we just need to get one more out and we can catch this team. The batter cranks the ball directly for me. It is late afternoon by this point, and the ball goes right into the sun. As I'm trying to see where the F the ball went, my confidence vanishes. I start simultaneously pooping and peeing my pants. My mouth has gone completely dry and every sip of booze from the night before wants immediately out of my stomach. As the ball in arcing downward towards me, I catch a glimpse of it in the sun. I'm still good. I'm in a good position, I can still do this.
The ball is half a second away now. Terror strikes as I realize it's going over my head. I make an awkward poke at the ball with my glove and fall over again. The ball rolls to the wall. I get up and throw in, but by this point, everyone has scored. In the park home run. The team went on to score 1,000 more runs in the inning, leading to our loss and the end of the tournament for us.
I have reviewed the play in my head at least 100 times since then. No one cares that we lost. We got to go home after the game and eat cheesy potatoes and start drinking again. We drew marker mustaches on each other and danced in the streets, but I can't forget about it. I'm thinking of signing up for a softball team this fall and exclusively playing right field so that I don't make the same mistake next year.
I drowned my sorrows in booze for the rest of the night which eventually led to getting drunk
with the Party Lion and running around a field with horses by myself at a very late hour. In the end, it was a great weekend and worth the 20 hours of car time that it took to get there. Thank you Truman for another great year.One last thing. JPLMC won our dodgeball game last week. Still undefeated with one week left. Click here for the current standings and schedule:
-Sota
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