0 - 1 : NPD 6, Help Wanted 7

My line score:
Games: 1
At-bats: 2
Runs: 0
Hits: 0
Batted In: 2 (tied for team lead)
Walks: 1 (tied for team lead)
Strikeouts: 0
Sacrifice Flies: 1 (team leader)
Average: .000
Slugging: .000
On-Base Average: .333
Put-outs: 4
Double-Plays: 1
Errors: 1

As the visiting team, we batted first, and, in the all-powerful three spot, I came to bat in the top of the first. There was a runner on, so I didn't face the ignominy of ending the inning. Unless, of course, I grounded into an inning-ending double play, as foreshadowed in yesterday's post.

But, no, I lined out to third. Not hard. Not a good hit. AND, I swung at the first pitch I saw, which is a total rookie move. Take a pitch. Make the pitcher throw strikes. But no, I was up there, flailing away.
Out. Oh-for-one.

I didn't play the field in the bottom of the first. I'm on a platoon with a guy named Jason, and he took the first field. Ball found him a couple of times; made an error, made a putout.

Look, I think I'm coming down with something (I think it's a 24-hour tumor, I hear they're going around), so I'm going to wrap this up here. Maybe I'll come back and embellish it later.

The rest of my at-bats:
Lined out HARD to third base. Should have been a hit, the guy just made a heck of a catch.
Sacrifice fly to deep left center. Got in a run.
Walked with the bases loaded, another RBI.
While I was on first, the next batter flew out to right field, so I didn't get to advance past first.

The rest of my plays in the field:
First ball to me was a low liner, at my feet. I should have knocked it down, kept it in front of me, and gone for the play at first. But I tried to make a lunging catch, allowing the ball to scoot past me into left field, scoring a run. Damn.

Next ball to me I fielded cleanly, and underhanded to the second baseman to start a 6-4-3 DP. Thing is, he didn't make the pivot, so we only go the one out. I should have kept the ball, crossed the base for the out and then fired to first for the double play.

NEXT ball to me I did just that: fielded it cleanly, glided over second to get the out, and put a good throw on it to nail the runner at first, a 6-4 double play. Highlight of the game.

My only other defensive play was a sharp grounder the pitcher fielded and spun around to throw to me to start a 1-6-3 double play. But I rushed it, and tried to make the throw before I made the catch at second. I booted it, both runners safe. The runner on second became the eventual winning run. Double-damn.

Still, I think every single fielder mis-played at least one ball. Every guy. We were a virtual cornucopia of errors. We were the "how not to field" drills you see on baseball training videos.
AND YET . . . we only lost by one run.

We could be okay. I've begged for more time at short. Not sure why, as -- except for that one double-play I started -- I kind of butchered it out there.

But it's a start. We're 0-1. My batting average is .000. But it's a start.

INJURY REPORT:

NO INJURIES!

I actually feel better today than the last few days. My hips are good, my shoulder's good, my ankles are good, my groin is still assembled in the correct order . . . I feel like I dodget a bullet!

Starting Lineup

I'm batting third.
THIRD.
And starting at shortstop.

Me. Third.

Derrek Lee hits third.
David Ortiz hits third.
Albert Freaking Pujols hits third.

I should not be hitting third. I even told El Capitan that. "I'm a bottom-of-the-order hitter," I said.

And, yet, there's my name.
Third

Huh.

I did get number 8, so that's something.

Alternative Team Names

I've done the anagram search, and here are the finalists:

Vacillate Stripper Drink
Participant Served Krill
Rippled Skitter Carnival
Dripper Skittle Carnival
Stripped Kilter Carnival
Tricked Vanilla Stripper
Valiant Crippled Striker
Crippled Kitten Arrivals
Crippled Arrival Kittens
Kind Privet Caterpillars
Crippled Kilt Narratives
Antiviral Stripped Clerk
Translative Dick Rippler

I'm a big fan of any that include the word "Stripper", as well as the phrase "Crippled Kitten" . . . but it's hard to top "Translative Dick Rippler".

If I had *any* readers on this blog, I'd do a poll, but I don't.

Opening Day!

Well, after the tedium and grind of Spring Training(1), it's finally here.

Opening Day.

I'm excited, of course.
We're in first place. Undefeated on the season. I have yet to strike out, or ground into an inning-ending double-play. The possibilities are endless.

Much like the historic Cincinnati Reds, we have been chosen by the league to participate in the first game of the new season. I presume there will be a military fly-over, and some big-name celebrity to sing the National Anthem. I don't know if the president will be throwing out the first pitch, but I'm sure it will be some major dignitary. Maybe the pope?

My extensive scouting report(2) indicates that our opposition is a team called "Help Wanted". THAT's a good sign. Obviously, this is a team that's not o'erbrimming with self-confidence. That's the kind of weakness a polished team like NPD(3) can exploit.

Hey - since the first game is tonight (6:30 PM, Central Daylight Time. Check your local listings), this is your last chance to take part in the "What excruciating injury will Tom sustain during the season?" lottery.

I'm as limber as a two-by-four (not very limber), so it really is only a matter of time before something is strained, sprained, torn, or broken. I've called dibs on the "massive groin injury" - a la Nomar Garciaparra for the hometown Cubs last season. A full rippage of the muscle from the bone, completely incapacitating me.)
Other weak spots for you to exploit:
knees
hips(4)
ankles
throwing shoulder
ribcage muscle(5)
fingers/blistering (left index finger is taped as a precaution)

Turns out our jerseys are dark green. That doesn't exactly work for me, fashion-wise, but, you know, I'm a gamer. I can roll with the punches.

We should be receiving a tentative linup from the team captain shortly. I'll post with an update when that comes through.


(1) And/or one half-assed practice session
(2) Looking at the season schedule
(3) Our team is "Naperville Park District". Not very threatening sounding, is it? I'm running an internet anagram server right now. Hopefully, that will turn out something good. If you have any suggestions for a team name or mascot, I'm happy to take suggestions.
(4) my extensive rehab (6) for my hip seems to have worked wonders
(5) i pull this every time i play golf - and swinging a bat is not unlike swinging a golf club
(6) rehab has included poking the part that hurts, wincing, and saying, "wow, my hip really hurts." Also, a lot of Alleve.

First Practice

So, we had our first get-together for the men's softball team last night.

We're in a summer rec league of pre-formed teams. That is, 15 guys have gotten together (typically, employees of the same company, or members of the same union) and entered the team into the league.

This season is the first year that the league has accepted individuals and formed a composite team out of all of these "leftover" players.

As our first game is TOMORROW NIGHT, we decided it might be prudent to get together and at least, you know, meet each other prior to the first game. So we did that last night.

It's been a while since I've played organized ball.
Like, a long while.
To be specific, I think 8th grade was my last year, although it could have been 6th.
That was, give or take, 20 years ago.

I have played catch since then, of course.
With kids. Young, small kids.
It's hard to really stretch out your arm when you're playing catch with 5-year-olds.

Thing is, I see myself as a shortstop. But not just that, a Shorstop, capital S.
Cal Ripken, Jr. Ozzie Smith. Derek Jeter. A-Rod. Nomar. . . Me.
I picture myself coming across those guys, all together in a group, late at night, maybe at a Stuckeys on the Interstate. They'll be all sitting around the formica table, drinking joe, swapping stories from the Show.

"Jeets, tell me about the time you dove into the stands to snare that foul ball agains the Red Sox," Cal will say. (Nomar winces, slightly.)
"That season I won my first, no wait, it was my second batting title . . ." Nomar will begin one anecdote.
"Cal, is it true that the closest you came to missing a game during The Streak was when your nose was broken during the team photo for the All-Star Game?" Derek will ask, wide-eyed with wonder.
"I have a Monet," A-Rod chips in. "I have more money than all of you put together."

I'll walk up to the table, and they'll stop talking, stoney-faced, staring at me for having the gall to interrupt their roundtable.

"It's okay, guys," I'll say. "I play Short." And with that, I'll toss my worn, beaten-in Rawlings Heart of the Hide PRO6HF onto the table and they'll know.

They'll know I belong.

So . . . I've kinda called dibs on short on my softball team.

The Majors

I've decided, at the age of 34, to become a major-league ballplayer.

I can do it.

I realize, at the age most players are considering retirement - if not already basking in it - I might be getting a late jump on the game. I concede this.
I also realize that my one shot is to be a wiley knuckleball pitcher. Those guys last forever.

I'll make the further frank concession that I can't, in point of fact, actually throw a knuckleball. But, to be honest, at this point in my journey to the Show, that's not my biggest hurdle to overcome.

Here's my plan:
This summer (2006): Rec league men's softball.
This fall (2006): Rec league men's hardball.
Next summer (2007): Competitive men's softball.
Next fall (2007): Competitive men's hardball.
Spring, 2008: Invitation to Cubs Spring Training in Mesa
Summer, 2008: AA-ball for the Cubs farm team
Fall, 2008: Fall call-up, MLB debut at Wrigley Field

That's the timeline.