Another one bites the dust (8/8)

It is with a heavy heart and pounding head that I somberly share the news that last night's game against "Doitt" was the end of the road for the 2007 True Foes.

We had never played against them during the regular season, but I know I am not alone in believing that they wouldn't have stood a chance against the Foes at their peak. Unfortunately last night we were not exactly in top form, and "Doitt" earned a well-deserved victory in the first game of the 2007 playoffs.

On the bright side, however, we did have plenty of things go our way, not the least of which was the blessedly overcast sky, which took the edge off of what surely would have been an impossibly scorching evening. The sun was hidden behind a thick veil of dirty clouds, but even so we were barely shielded from the full force of a hot and heavy August night down in the navy yard. Dust kicked up by a zinger landing squarely in my glove or by a runner's infield tracks hovered, suspended in the murky air for a few heartbeats before settling. There wasn't a player in sight who wasn't coated in a filthy film of sweat and dirt.

If it had been up to the umpire's girlfriend (or daughter? we hope) the Foes would have won it all, but not even her persistent and seemingly heartfelt cheers from behind the fence could sway the scoreboard in our favor. At first I was seriously annoyed by her continual, uninvited commentary because it was obvious that she just wanted the game to end quickly so she and her (boyfriend? father? will we ever know?) could leave together. But after a couple of innings it became clear that she wasn't just cheering for easy outs and a fast game--she wanted the True Foes to win! Turns out that the source of such gems as "You call that a ball? Why you walkin' him baby?" was an astute observer after all.

Having the numbers to play last night was never an issue: we had our regular core group of diehards with us: Jason, myself, Issa, Willy, Cleo, Abbey, Alex Laviola, and David Phillips. Our equally hardcore and absolutely essential ringers joined us, too: Softball Dave, Shortstop Brian, Glenn, and Wendy from Thinkfilm. Alex Mabilon came along later in the game to lend a hand (and drive the equipment!), and we always had a vociferous if minimal cheering section going no matter how damp and discouraging the evening's events felt.

The True Foes were off to a solid start, and for a while there it looked like the game was ours to win. The "Doitt" squad had the unfortunate habit of taking early and overly-generous leads off the base, and Blue was quick to call them on it, sending one of their first runners back to the dugout for leaving the base too soon. Jason and Brian picked another man off at second with an impressive and impeccably timed maneuver. Besides pitching a hell of a game and throwing more strikeouts than softball fans usually see, Jason also boosted his batting average at the last minute with an exciting home run.

Laviola and Brian were swift and crafty base runners, as always, and besides making some impressive stops at first and in right field, respectively, Issa and David Phillips did us proud up at bat. Cleo, Wendy, Abbey, and myself showed the players on "Doitt" what it looks like when you have female ball players that can really play and aren't just there as token "coed" representatives, and Softball Dave caught more than his fair share of fouls and infield flies. We were sad to see Glenn and Willy take off immediately following the game, but we're glad they were able to come out and play.

I wish I could lay all the blame on the field, because Barry 01 really is a terrible place to play. Besides the distorted dimensions and shade-free dugouts, we had a constant stream of pee wee football league players and indifferent coaches ambling through our outfield for the better part of the evening. Eventually Blue gave up trying to shoo them out, and muttered to himself "If they're gonna get hit by the ball maybe that'll teach 'em." I was tempted to echo a cry that came from Doitt's dugout between innings: "This is the playoffs, dammit!" But the truth is that, field woes aside, Doitt out-played us and earned their victory fair and square. As much as I'd love to smear them and try to take away from their win, they were worthy adversaries and very sportsmanlike in their demeanor both during and after the game, and we wish them luck. The True Foes didn't make every catch that we should have made or collect every run that we should have scored, but we gave it our best and enjoyed every smelly, sweaty minute of the game, as we always do.

I won't deny that there were some bitter tears mixed in with the sweat rolling down my face as we walked through our final "good game" handslap. I spent a good ten minutes wrestling with the equipment bags--it was harder than usual to get everything to fit inside so I could zip it shut. My catcher's mask just did not want to be set aside for the rest of the summer. The bats and the grass-stained practice balls somehow knew that they were being stored for a long time, and they resisted to the end in their simple, inanimate way. It seems like only a few short days ago that we were opening the bags for the first time, inhaling the singular musk of stale sweat and discovering year-old granola bars and dirty scraps of paper with lucky or not-so-lucky lineups scribbled on them.

Our last game went by too fast. The season went by too fast. Yes, there is always next spring, and it's true that we are getting stronger and playing better year after year, but it sure would have been nice to carry on working this week knowing that we had at least one more game on the schedule to look forward to. It took a good four or five rounds of dirty hos before the depression lifted enough for me to join in our cherished and perfected tradition of getting hammered and toasting our individual and collective merits again and again. I think there were at least two rounds of conciliatory shots done, too, and I'm pretty sure that second one tasted like tequila. My head hurts.

I'm thankful that this is an email and not a broadcast, because if I were to try to verbalize all that being a True Foe means, and how much love we put into the game this season, and how high our hopes are for 2008, I'd be too choked up to make any sense. To everyone who came out to play: well done. To all our fans: thank you for your support, whether it came via text message or a scream from the sidelines. To the other teams in the league: enjoy the rest of the season while you can, because next year we'll be back with a vengeance: in 2008 The True Foes are taking no prisoners.

GTF