Sometimes you win… (6/5)

...and sometimes you just have to take one on the chin. Despite a great turnout, fair weather, and the True Foes’ trademark ebullience, we lost by an anguishing margin of one run for a final score of 15-14 in last night's game against Standard and Poor's.

The field was more than a little askew, as we had to work around a lake between first and second, small ponds in short center field and in front of the pitcher's mound, and a bog behind home plate. The bases were shifted to create dry space to run/bat in, so although the distances were correct things felt a little off.

The umpire we had last night was definitely the worst of the season. He started off the game by inventing a bunch of his own rules, like it's an automatic out if you throw your bat, or if you run into someone who's blocking the baseline, or if the ball goes into the lake. What kind of sissified nonsense is that? It seemed as if things were biased against us right from the coin toss, which we lost (sorry, I called it).

The Foes were up first, and we did our best to take swings at pitches that looked like they were (to use Issa's words) “dropped out of a window.” Willy (the game's MVP without a doubt) hit a grand slam his first time up at bat, and followed that up in later innings with a double and plenty of RBI. Overall we batted well, but there were a lot of pop ups which unfortunately the other team wasn't completely inept at catching.

Mad props go to Softball Dave for stepping up to the pitchers mound in the absence of our usual pitcher and substitutes. The ump definitely had it in for him. I don't know, maybe the sun got in his eyes and thought that Dave gave him a funny look or something, but he just would not give him a break and called about 500 balls in a row. No credit to Standard & Poor's for effort—they seemed perfectly content to stand ineffectually at the plate, grasping the bat like it was a life preserver, cringing every time the ball came near and walking in a pathetic procession around the bases.

A change was in order, so Willy took over pitching for the last three innings. Besides the fact that he pitched very well, the ump seemed to snap out of his rut and start calling both balls and strikes for us again. The greatest injustice, however, was Blue’s harebrained idea that players should be out if they collide on the field. I mean, if a clumsy second baseman is planted square on top of the base, fumbling the ball in slow motion as I'm running as fast as my Pumas will take me, is there really any choice but to plow into her? I didn't see one. The ump said I had to slide, but failed to explain how sliding is accomplished when the base is surrounded by ankle-deep clover. Seriously.

A huge thank-you goes out to Brian Stenson for managing the politics of the lineup and substitutions (and for healing his feet so he could play!), and to Chris for keeping score for us. We couldn't have done it without our talented ThinkFilm ringers, who also included Wendy, Mike, and Ben. David Phillips and Jamie were both able to play, and though we were sorry to see them leave before the end of the game we appreciate them coming out. Danny (our intern) played his first game and shows a lot of potential, and Issa was excellent at first base as usual. Matt Lipson gets a shout-out for not only showing up when he had a sinus infection, but for bringing the Matt-mobile and hauling the equipment.

So yeah, we lost. We brought the stank to Superfine and carved out a space for ourselves to congregate. And then to add insult to injury they were out of Hoegaarden! Somehow we made do with other brews, and the night ended on a happy note. After all, the True Foes don't show up every week to play because we look so good in our uniforms (but thanks for noticing), or because we know we'll win, or because we're guaranteed to have perfect conditions. We rock up to the field, play our hearts out, cheer our throats sore, get hurt, and rub dirt on it because we love the game.

The next one is scheduled for a week from tomorrow: Thursday, June 14 at 6 p.m. at Barry 2 in Brooklyn. I have a strong presentiment we're going to deliver a mighty butt-kicking to Hagfish, so make sure you're there!

GTF