Ah, 2011, it's a new year, I wonder what it holds in store for me. Well first, there are several trips to the hospital, culminating in the birth of my first grandchild.
Then I am called to jury duty in the worst neighborhood, I get picked for a 4 day murder trial, and on the last day just when I think this is finally over, aww man, the elevator gets stuck between floors for an hour, and the firemen have to pry open the ceiling of the cabin and lower skinny ladders down to us, and boost us out to the door opening 5 feet above the ceiling one person at a time. The only thing to look forward to after that was an late hour one hour drive home thru bad neighborhoods.
Then comes one of the worst snowstorms in our city's history, could not get to work but, aww man, I had my computer with remote access to our company's network so I worked all day anyway from home, besides shoveling out to get to work the next day.
When I get back the next day, aww man, I get tasked with creating a labor budget file to cross reference dozens of projects with dozens of resource categories to see how many specific types of resources are needed for each project (around 150 linked worksheets in a single Excel file, a piece of cake).
Then I have to travel to Tennessee on business for 4 days, and after that, aww man, my expense report hits me with a $39 late charge due to the approval process taking too long, not my fault, but still my expense due to policy.
March finally arrives and with great anticipation I drive to my first golf course of the year, Rolling Knolls, which I have enjoyed for 20 years because it is uncrowded and inexpensive, and never closes for the winter. What's this? No cars in the lot and windows are boarded up? Aww man, out of business, a sign of the times.
Oh well, I can always look forward to the softball season, another kick in the gut, our Mavericks manager Don Sokolowski has just passed away. Nobody else wants the job, aww man, so I guess I'm it.
Oh well at least I can enjoy the opening day of softball season, but 15 minutes before our Grumpies game it starts raining, aww man, game canceled. What next? The following week our stellar defense kicks the ball around like the Brazilian soccer team. In honor of that our offense puts up a soccer score while the opposing offense puts up a football score.
Then the wife and I take a cruise on the largest ship ever, the Allure of the Seas, an astounding experience. Big deal, so I miss one softball game against a team that only won one game last year. When I get back, I learned, aww man, they beat us. But I don't care, the cruise was fantastic. In fact everything in life is fantastic, setbacks just add spice to the good times.
Looking forward to the annual 6 County Senior Olympics, first event is golf at Highland Park. With 12 months of pent up anticipation I make the hour long drive, sign in, load the clubs onto the cart and just before we head for the tee, aww man, a sudden thunderstorm cancels the event. The next day, our Mavericks make it to the gold medal game against the winner of the game between the Barons, a team that already beat us in our league, and a glove-wearing team from Huntley who ended up clobbering the Barons. Aww man, this means we have no chance, but let's just play the game one pitch at a time, and yeah man, we won the gold medal.
Next Olympic event was 9 hole golf at Tam in Niles. Good round except for one really bad hole, aww man a snowman, but yeah man, they picked that hole for Peoria handicap which subtracts that hole from your score, so I won the gold anyway.
Next was track and field in Park Ridge. I was confident I would win the 50 meter dash but aww man I stumbled and finished 3rd. No problem I still think I can win the high jump and long jump because I spent all last night drinking Foster's Australian beer to make me jump like a kangaroo, but aww man, those events got canceled by a thunderstorm.
Elbow gets seriously inflamed, pain with every touch or movement. Aww man, no more softball or golf for awhile. Wife claims it is due to golf elbow, I claim it is bingo elbow. Survived Septemberfest bingo only because I did not get many numbers.
The young lean mean and highly athletic stud muffins at work invited me to play basketball every Friday, so I tried it because I needed the exercise. I quickly saw that I have lost a step or two. Okay maybe 3 or 4. But some of my moves still work, like faking a shot and watching superman fly overhead while I dribble to the basket and miss the layup. Another move was when I was the only defender back against a 2 on 1 fast break, so I faked like I was anticipating a pass, and the dribbler fell for it and went for the layup just as I went back to him and blocked his shot. I got high fives all around for that. The other youngster's psyche is ruined forever, with the stigma of having been rejected by a 65 year old man. Aww man, I forgot I could have made it worse by wagging the finger like Dikembe Mutumbo.
Saw a Matthew Kelly presentation in person at our church, and he was so inspirational that he challenged us to read a page of the Bible each day. Mary and I decided to do that and we are enjoying it, answering each other's questions along the way. Another challenge was to keep a Journal for each Mass we attended, writing down just one idea for each Mass. Now my attention span is usually terrible, but now that I have this Journal, I am forcing myself to pay attention to see whether the one idea comes from the readings or from the Sermon. This guy is a genius.
We decided to get our kitchen remodeled. Aww man, we had no idea the demolition stage would banish us to our bedrooms upstairs for a month. Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners will have to be elsewhere. On top of that, aww man, the walls we wanted removed happen to load bearing walls that have heating ducts between the studs, so the remodeler is stumped on how to deal with this. Since the new cabinetry has already been built, there can be no Plan B. However the ducts were successfully rerouted, and all progress is recorded on Photobucket.com, search on the name golfwithjoey, album named kitchen. Happy new year.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Stop the Bear
Many of my '70's softball Maulers’ wildest games were against the Addison Freeloaders, a team that did very well in State and National tournaments.
On one occasion they brought a guy named The Bear, and when he strode to the plate I could see why. The guy had a very thick torso without an ounce of fat, and almost as much bodily hair as the Wolf Man (my mind's eye is imagining a wriggling salmon clenched between his teeth). His practice swing blew the caps off the heads of our infielders (while the wind was blowing in). I am thinking maybe I should just walk this freakin beast?
Of course pride dictated that I had to try to get the guy out, so I nervously pitched to him and of course he smokes a line drive directly at my right hip. I instantly found out that it is true that just before imminent death your life flashes before your eyes and time almost stands still, giving you time to ponder. If I try to get a hand on this drive (remember this is 16 inch no gloves), it will simply remove my hand from my arm. But I cannot just chicken out and let the liner go thru, so I instinctively moved my arm out a little further to let the ball strike my forearm instead of my hand.
If I had not been wearing spikes, the impact would have spun me around like a top, but the spikes held, so it only moved me a quarter turn, and luckily the ball bounced straight down and up. Returning to regular action speed, I tried to act cool and nonchalant by fielding the bounce and tossing the ball to first. My toss seemed soft and easy, but it was as hard as I could throw it due to the force of the blow rendering my arm almost useless.
The expressions on the faces of the Freeloaders was priceless, a scene frozen in time, with all jaws dropping including The Bear’s, (thus allowing the salmon to escape and flop away) while I tried to look even cooler by putting my hands on my hips and forcing a smile by gritting my teeth to mask the pain. I only had enough arm strength left to somehow manage to get one more pitch close to the plate, and luckily the next batter swung at the first pitch and made the third out. Needless to say, all my high fives from then on were left handed.
As soon as I got to the bench I hid behind everyone where no one else could see, and rolled around on the ground clutching my arm and cussing myself for trying to play hero and not diving out of the way instead. Of course I was quickly notified that we went down 1-2-3, so I had to stop rolling around and cussing and take the field again, so I strutted out there trying to act nonchalant like nothing happened, while again forcing a smile by gritting my teeth, although it may have been a tipoff that my right forearm had swollen like Popeye’s, contrasted to my other arm looking like Olive Oyl’s. At least its condition was upgraded from useless to somewhat functional.
The second coolest part was after the game some of the Freeloaders (who never saw me rolling around behind the dugout) were heard to mumble maybe this guy must be pretty tough to stop a shot like that so we should not mess with him, which is pretty funny because if they only know the truth, each of them were probably capable of breaking me in half, except for The Bear who could simply use me as a replacement for the next salmon.
Just goes to show, it is better to be lucky than good.
Many of my '70's softball Maulers’ wildest games were against the Addison Freeloaders, a team that did very well in State and National tournaments.
On one occasion they brought a guy named The Bear, and when he strode to the plate I could see why. The guy had a very thick torso without an ounce of fat, and almost as much bodily hair as the Wolf Man (my mind's eye is imagining a wriggling salmon clenched between his teeth). His practice swing blew the caps off the heads of our infielders (while the wind was blowing in). I am thinking maybe I should just walk this freakin beast?
Of course pride dictated that I had to try to get the guy out, so I nervously pitched to him and of course he smokes a line drive directly at my right hip. I instantly found out that it is true that just before imminent death your life flashes before your eyes and time almost stands still, giving you time to ponder. If I try to get a hand on this drive (remember this is 16 inch no gloves), it will simply remove my hand from my arm. But I cannot just chicken out and let the liner go thru, so I instinctively moved my arm out a little further to let the ball strike my forearm instead of my hand.
If I had not been wearing spikes, the impact would have spun me around like a top, but the spikes held, so it only moved me a quarter turn, and luckily the ball bounced straight down and up. Returning to regular action speed, I tried to act cool and nonchalant by fielding the bounce and tossing the ball to first. My toss seemed soft and easy, but it was as hard as I could throw it due to the force of the blow rendering my arm almost useless.
The expressions on the faces of the Freeloaders was priceless, a scene frozen in time, with all jaws dropping including The Bear’s, (thus allowing the salmon to escape and flop away) while I tried to look even cooler by putting my hands on my hips and forcing a smile by gritting my teeth to mask the pain. I only had enough arm strength left to somehow manage to get one more pitch close to the plate, and luckily the next batter swung at the first pitch and made the third out. Needless to say, all my high fives from then on were left handed.
As soon as I got to the bench I hid behind everyone where no one else could see, and rolled around on the ground clutching my arm and cussing myself for trying to play hero and not diving out of the way instead. Of course I was quickly notified that we went down 1-2-3, so I had to stop rolling around and cussing and take the field again, so I strutted out there trying to act nonchalant like nothing happened, while again forcing a smile by gritting my teeth, although it may have been a tipoff that my right forearm had swollen like Popeye’s, contrasted to my other arm looking like Olive Oyl’s. At least its condition was upgraded from useless to somewhat functional.
The second coolest part was after the game some of the Freeloaders (who never saw me rolling around behind the dugout) were heard to mumble maybe this guy must be pretty tough to stop a shot like that so we should not mess with him, which is pretty funny because if they only know the truth, each of them were probably capable of breaking me in half, except for The Bear who could simply use me as a replacement for the next salmon.
Just goes to show, it is better to be lucky than good.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Cute little snakes.
When the bicycle bridge over the highway was built, a den of harmless red bellied snakes was apparently disturbed, causing them to wander all over near the bridge looking for a new home. My son Tommy decided these might make interesting pets, so he brought two of them home and put them in a small fish tank, filled with some plants, a decorative stone, and a glass plate over the top.
Mom was against this but we assured her the cute little snakes could not possibly escape. Lengthy debates ensued, but Tommy's persistence won out for the time being, despite Mom's warning that if these snakes ever escaped, there would be hell to pay.
All was well for awhile, but one day when I came home from work, a white faced Tommy asked me if I did anything with the snakes because one of them was apparently not in the tank. Mom was not home at the time, so we embarked on a futile search to find the elusive serpent.
Tommy openly wondered how the snake could possibly have gotten out, but I noticed in the fish tank the decorative rock was placed vertically in the corner, so the snake apparently used this rock as leverage to push up against the glass plate at the top, and as we all know, if the head gets thru, it is just a matter of time before the rest of the snake gets thru.
Now that we understood how the snake probably escaped, we redoubled our search efforts, but oh oh, I hear the garage door opening, Mom has come home, so Tommy and I dash downstairs into the family room, turn on the TV and act like nothing was happening. Mom entered just as we sat down, so we coolly welcomed her back home, asked how she was doing, and did she need any help carrying things from the car. At first she looked suspicious, since we are not in the habit of such gallantry, but after some curious frowns, she ignored us and headed upstairs.
As Tommy and I wondered what to do next, a bloody scream came from upstairs. Tommy and I looked at each other as if to say I think Mom has found the missing snake. We are doomed.
I tried to come to her rescue by rushing upstairs and acting surprised as I observed the serpentine hula across the floor and lamely saying "Oh my, how did that happen?" Did not work. No point in continuing this story, hello couch.
When the bicycle bridge over the highway was built, a den of harmless red bellied snakes was apparently disturbed, causing them to wander all over near the bridge looking for a new home. My son Tommy decided these might make interesting pets, so he brought two of them home and put them in a small fish tank, filled with some plants, a decorative stone, and a glass plate over the top.
Mom was against this but we assured her the cute little snakes could not possibly escape. Lengthy debates ensued, but Tommy's persistence won out for the time being, despite Mom's warning that if these snakes ever escaped, there would be hell to pay.
All was well for awhile, but one day when I came home from work, a white faced Tommy asked me if I did anything with the snakes because one of them was apparently not in the tank. Mom was not home at the time, so we embarked on a futile search to find the elusive serpent.
Tommy openly wondered how the snake could possibly have gotten out, but I noticed in the fish tank the decorative rock was placed vertically in the corner, so the snake apparently used this rock as leverage to push up against the glass plate at the top, and as we all know, if the head gets thru, it is just a matter of time before the rest of the snake gets thru.
Now that we understood how the snake probably escaped, we redoubled our search efforts, but oh oh, I hear the garage door opening, Mom has come home, so Tommy and I dash downstairs into the family room, turn on the TV and act like nothing was happening. Mom entered just as we sat down, so we coolly welcomed her back home, asked how she was doing, and did she need any help carrying things from the car. At first she looked suspicious, since we are not in the habit of such gallantry, but after some curious frowns, she ignored us and headed upstairs.
As Tommy and I wondered what to do next, a bloody scream came from upstairs. Tommy and I looked at each other as if to say I think Mom has found the missing snake. We are doomed.
I tried to come to her rescue by rushing upstairs and acting surprised as I observed the serpentine hula across the floor and lamely saying "Oh my, how did that happen?" Did not work. No point in continuing this story, hello couch.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Grumpies history
1997-Frank Czarnik stands at second base during the formation and draft for our new softball league, thereby becoming team #2.
1998-Louie Cumbo recruits me for the Grumpies. We play a game televised by Channel 6, DVD or VHS available upon request, and stink up the joint, losing to a team having a losing record. After that we win the championship when Bobby Ruth gets the game winning hit, so we named a candy bar after him.
1999-I tore my ACL playing over 50 basketball so I did not participate, but Rob Bergmann joins the team and leads them to the finals.
2002- Our mediocre record did not qualify for the playoffs outright, we had to win a play-in game just to get into the playoffs, which we did, and then marched thru the playoffs like Sherman went thru Georgia, and then upset a powerful Code Blue team in a televised Channel 6 finals, DVD or VHS available upon request.
2004- We had the best team, but in the playoffs in the last inning we had a good rally going and I came up with 1 out and the bases loaded, one run down, I had been batting very well so it was hangin time, they knew it, and I knew it, and I aimed a liner to the right of the second baseman, but the short center anticipated it and moved over to that gap and made a reaching catch for a double play, and just like that, rally over, game over, season over, have a nice winter, see you next spring.
2005- We lost only one game all year 5-3 to the undefeated Chicago Classics team, but we got our revenge against them in the playoff championship game, the last out being a shot down the first base line bouncing high off Fred Klaus' foot, so I ran over to cover first base, but as I got there the ball came down right to me as I caught it and stepped on first base for the final out, I can still hear the crowd screaming.
2006- In the semifinals, we are down big to a team of ringers, and they are about to add to their lead with the bases loaded and their best ringer at bat, who was 3 for 3, nothing shorter than a triple. It was hangin time, we knew it, they knew it, because I could not walk the guy or give my usual pitch to him, so I pitched it lefty, which caught him by surprise and I heard him gulp as he hit hit a hard one hopper to our second baseman Denny who made the play, inning over, and the surprised ringer could only utter sh*t 20 consecutive times as he headed to the dugout. We were still several runs down at the time, but the bottom of our order came thru in the last inning when all hope was almost gone with hit after hit to pull out an improbable win. After the final run scored I went to shake hands with the other team, who were so stunned that they had not yet moved from their defensive positions. Instead of saying the usual nice game, they only stared blankly into space emphatically uttering sh*t over and over. In the finals we were down to the Dawgs 3-0 late in the game, but Rob rescued us with two extra base hits to win the championship.
2007-In mid season, our manager since day 1, Frank Czarnik passed away. Things have never been the same since. We are all wearing commemorative patches on our sleeves in his memory. Despite a good start to the season, the latter part was missing Frank's passion so we finished poorly.
2008-every team has picked up newer younger stronger players, so we did not have much chance, but here is how it played out in the double elimination format...
After we beat FOG and lost to the Unknowns, a fight ensued between FOG and the 16 Inchers. The following day I received emails from FOG saying they were going to take legal action for assault and battery, and as commissioner if I did not find out who the other guy was, they were going to send the police after me too. So I had to decide if I would rather be behind bars or have to play against FOG again, so I flipped a coin, it came up heads meaning I gotta play FOG again. I was tempted to try 2 out of 3 flips, but I bit the bullet and called the FOG manager to get their side of the story. In the meantime they managed to get the identity of the attacker from other channels, so I was off the hook.
In the process of getting phone numbers, I looked at the FOG roster and some of the names sounded a little familiar, so I looked at the site for the 16 inch Softball Hall Of Fame and sure enough I found at least 4 of the FOG names are listed as Inductees. No wonder they have been kicking the crap out of everyone. That gave me cause to ponder, here we are, the depleted over the hill Grumpies, missing 6 players, avoiding forfeit only by unexpected duty from Wayne and Fred, having to face a nearly invincible team of much younger bigger and stronger Hall Of Famers, making me feel like Custer at the Little Big Horn, or the charge of the light brigade, or The Alamo, or Dunkirk, or Thermopylae, or opening day for the Dead Cougars (see separate post).
While I am pondering our fate, the rest of the Grumpies embraced the situation like Don Quixote, to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to go where the brave dare not go, to give when there's no more to give, to fight with our last ounce of courage, etc etc, and when the dust settled we had somehow scratched out 2 more runs than they did. It did help that the wind was blowing in and FOG kept trying to hit the ball long, despite our outfielders being so deep they were like specks on the horizon. As a result of the Aug 25 double elimination carnage, we are one of only 3 teams left standing, to march into hell for a heavenly cause, to reach the unreachable star etc etc., the other two teams being FOG who subsequently kicked the crap out of the Classics and the 16 Inchers, and the Unknowns who are in the catbird seat as the only team remaining in the winners bracket, so someone will have to beat them twice to dream the impossible dream, to reach the unreachable star, etc etc.
Now we had to play FOG again, and this time I suspected we would have to face eleven hall of famers, seven of which we have never seen before. Nevertheless, this was our quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far, etc etc. Whatever happens, I am very proud of our team's attitude of damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. You guys are awesome.
As it turned out the FOG hall of famers really were the unbeatable foe, so it did not matter that we gave when there was no more to give, it was too hopeless, it was too far, etc etc, the star really was unreachable, the dream really was impossible, even the Unknowns found that out, but in light of the heightened level of competition I think our team overachieved. Not bad for us throwbacks.
1998-Louie Cumbo recruits me for the Grumpies. We play a game televised by Channel 6, DVD or VHS available upon request, and stink up the joint, losing to a team having a losing record. After that we win the championship when Bobby Ruth gets the game winning hit, so we named a candy bar after him.
1999-I tore my ACL playing over 50 basketball so I did not participate, but Rob Bergmann joins the team and leads them to the finals.
2002- Our mediocre record did not qualify for the playoffs outright, we had to win a play-in game just to get into the playoffs, which we did, and then marched thru the playoffs like Sherman went thru Georgia, and then upset a powerful Code Blue team in a televised Channel 6 finals, DVD or VHS available upon request.
2004- We had the best team, but in the playoffs in the last inning we had a good rally going and I came up with 1 out and the bases loaded, one run down, I had been batting very well so it was hangin time, they knew it, and I knew it, and I aimed a liner to the right of the second baseman, but the short center anticipated it and moved over to that gap and made a reaching catch for a double play, and just like that, rally over, game over, season over, have a nice winter, see you next spring.
2005- We lost only one game all year 5-3 to the undefeated Chicago Classics team, but we got our revenge against them in the playoff championship game, the last out being a shot down the first base line bouncing high off Fred Klaus' foot, so I ran over to cover first base, but as I got there the ball came down right to me as I caught it and stepped on first base for the final out, I can still hear the crowd screaming.
2006- In the semifinals, we are down big to a team of ringers, and they are about to add to their lead with the bases loaded and their best ringer at bat, who was 3 for 3, nothing shorter than a triple. It was hangin time, we knew it, they knew it, because I could not walk the guy or give my usual pitch to him, so I pitched it lefty, which caught him by surprise and I heard him gulp as he hit hit a hard one hopper to our second baseman Denny who made the play, inning over, and the surprised ringer could only utter sh*t 20 consecutive times as he headed to the dugout. We were still several runs down at the time, but the bottom of our order came thru in the last inning when all hope was almost gone with hit after hit to pull out an improbable win. After the final run scored I went to shake hands with the other team, who were so stunned that they had not yet moved from their defensive positions. Instead of saying the usual nice game, they only stared blankly into space emphatically uttering sh*t over and over. In the finals we were down to the Dawgs 3-0 late in the game, but Rob rescued us with two extra base hits to win the championship.
2007-In mid season, our manager since day 1, Frank Czarnik passed away. Things have never been the same since. We are all wearing commemorative patches on our sleeves in his memory. Despite a good start to the season, the latter part was missing Frank's passion so we finished poorly.
2008-every team has picked up newer younger stronger players, so we did not have much chance, but here is how it played out in the double elimination format...
After we beat FOG and lost to the Unknowns, a fight ensued between FOG and the 16 Inchers. The following day I received emails from FOG saying they were going to take legal action for assault and battery, and as commissioner if I did not find out who the other guy was, they were going to send the police after me too. So I had to decide if I would rather be behind bars or have to play against FOG again, so I flipped a coin, it came up heads meaning I gotta play FOG again. I was tempted to try 2 out of 3 flips, but I bit the bullet and called the FOG manager to get their side of the story. In the meantime they managed to get the identity of the attacker from other channels, so I was off the hook.
In the process of getting phone numbers, I looked at the FOG roster and some of the names sounded a little familiar, so I looked at the site for the 16 inch Softball Hall Of Fame and sure enough I found at least 4 of the FOG names are listed as Inductees. No wonder they have been kicking the crap out of everyone. That gave me cause to ponder, here we are, the depleted over the hill Grumpies, missing 6 players, avoiding forfeit only by unexpected duty from Wayne and Fred, having to face a nearly invincible team of much younger bigger and stronger Hall Of Famers, making me feel like Custer at the Little Big Horn, or the charge of the light brigade, or The Alamo, or Dunkirk, or Thermopylae, or opening day for the Dead Cougars (see separate post).
While I am pondering our fate, the rest of the Grumpies embraced the situation like Don Quixote, to dream the impossible dream, to fight the unbeatable foe, to go where the brave dare not go, to give when there's no more to give, to fight with our last ounce of courage, etc etc, and when the dust settled we had somehow scratched out 2 more runs than they did. It did help that the wind was blowing in and FOG kept trying to hit the ball long, despite our outfielders being so deep they were like specks on the horizon. As a result of the Aug 25 double elimination carnage, we are one of only 3 teams left standing, to march into hell for a heavenly cause, to reach the unreachable star etc etc., the other two teams being FOG who subsequently kicked the crap out of the Classics and the 16 Inchers, and the Unknowns who are in the catbird seat as the only team remaining in the winners bracket, so someone will have to beat them twice to dream the impossible dream, to reach the unreachable star, etc etc.
Now we had to play FOG again, and this time I suspected we would have to face eleven hall of famers, seven of which we have never seen before. Nevertheless, this was our quest, to follow that star, no matter how hopeless, no matter how far, etc etc. Whatever happens, I am very proud of our team's attitude of damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead. You guys are awesome.
As it turned out the FOG hall of famers really were the unbeatable foe, so it did not matter that we gave when there was no more to give, it was too hopeless, it was too far, etc etc, the star really was unreachable, the dream really was impossible, even the Unknowns found that out, but in light of the heightened level of competition I think our team overachieved. Not bad for us throwbacks.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
A First Time Pitcher
When I was younger I had some speed, so I was always banished to the wilderness of center field, far away from the fans. Like most young and foolish people trying to make a name for themselves, I was always jealous of our pitcher Golden Arm because all eyes were on him for every pitch, striking his godlike pose on the mound with a defiant smirk on his face that made Charlton Heston look like a wimp. I figure this must be why Golden Arm is so popular with the ladies, so I was hoping someday maybe I would get a chance to try pitching, but I knew I would never get the chance as long as Golden Arm was around, because he had been pitching for a long time. Rumor has it that he was the one who taught Hoyt Wilhelm’s father how to throw a knuckleball.
On a hot muggy day in late July, my dream finally came true. We were playing the last place team and Golden Arm had such distain for them that he refused to waste his talents on them and risk fatiguing his golden arm, especially because it was hot and muggy, so he finally let me pitch. Ah yes, at last, my big chance. I figure if I can pitch a shutout, I might get to pitch more often. Since we were playing the last place team, several of our other players were also trying new positions, but nevertheless I had the utmost confidence that our fine athletes would be able to adapt to any position, except of course pitching, which today was mine alone.
Okay, here comes the first batter. How do you like my Charlton Heston stance? Here, see if you can hit this, you turkey….ah, an easy ground ball to our diminutive second baseman, which gallops merrily into right field after passing thru the tiny arch formed by his legs. I did not think a 16 inch softball could fit thru there. No problem, we will get the next guy. This time it is a grounder between first and second and these two infielders, gentlemen that they were, would not dream of getting in each other’s way, so they stand there looking at each other as the ball once again gallops merrily into right field. Aww, just throw the ball to second base…don’t throw it to third…he did not throw it to third, he threw it into the spectators. Well, there goes the shutout. Next comes an easy ground ball to the shortstop, and then you hear lots of ooohs and aaahs as this time the throw airmails the spectators. Another ground ball to the shortstop, and as he carefully lines up his throw, the ball slips out of his hands and rolls feebly back to the mound. I am getting dizzy watching runners circling the bases. At last a ground ball to the pitcher. I am not going to risk any more throws, so I run over to try to tag the runner who tries to slide at the same time and the other team thinks I knocked him down, so they began to call me some very vile names, and casting considerable doubt upon my ancestry.
A few innings later, the insults have died down and I have once again assumed my Charlton Heston stance, and the defense was rearranged to prevent a repeat of the first inning. Another slow ground ball between first and second. I notice the first baseman fielding the ball so I run over to cover first base. But then the first baseman runs toward the base to make the putout himself, and I foresee a 3 way collision coming up, so I stop short. Aww, what did you throw the ball to me for? Now the first baseman is all shook up and apologetic. It is becoming hard to look cool under these conditions. Next comes a hard grounder to the third baseman. Nice pickup, perfect throw. Our shook up first baseman drops it. Then comes a texas leaguer flyball to short left. Our left fielder makes a nice running catch and we have the runner doubled off first. Nice throw on one bounce to our shook up first baseman. Aww, don’t juggle it. By the time he gets it under control, he stretches too far and falls, pulling his foot off the base and the runner gets back safely. Another ground ball to third. Try for a double play. Good throw, but the second baseman trying to turn the double play, tries to throw it before he catches it and drops it. Another grounder to third. The third baseman starts to throw it to first, but I bellowed at the top of my lungs to step on the base instead, and he sheepishly tiptoes over to step on the bag to get the force. Now he was shook up too. Next inning we put him in the outfield where he drops two consecutive fly balls.
By now I am pinching myself hoping that this is only a nightmare. I am trying my best to make them hit the ball nowhere else but to the pitcher. An infield popup to our shook up first baseman, please please catch it! He did, he really caught it! Yes! I am so overjoyed that the first baseman is hacked off at me for being sarcastic, saying "You expected something else?" Our astute shortstop thinks this is pretty funny, so he is in hysterics. I never had to watch any plays anymore, all I had to do was listen to the shortstop. If he is laughing, the runner must have been safe for some reason, for which I could not bear to look. It is now the last inning, the bases are loaded, we are only up by one run, and there is only one out. One more base hit for them would win the game.
Even though my earned run average was still zero, Golden Arm had seen enough, so he calls himself out of the bullpen to put out the fire. The next batter smokes a hard line drive into the chest of our third baseman with a resounding thud, but he held on for the out, and then spent the rest of the game rubbing his chest with the facial expression of one who had just sucked a lemon. Two outs. The next batter hits a long one and our left fielder looks like a wide receiver on a post pattern as he stretches out to make a diving catch going away.
Game over. Golden Arm had put out the fire on just 2 pitches, and notified me that because I was not able to stop the other team, the experiment was over, my fate once again was to be banished forever into the wilderness of center field, while on the mound the ladies man would continue to do his thing.
When I was younger I had some speed, so I was always banished to the wilderness of center field, far away from the fans. Like most young and foolish people trying to make a name for themselves, I was always jealous of our pitcher Golden Arm because all eyes were on him for every pitch, striking his godlike pose on the mound with a defiant smirk on his face that made Charlton Heston look like a wimp. I figure this must be why Golden Arm is so popular with the ladies, so I was hoping someday maybe I would get a chance to try pitching, but I knew I would never get the chance as long as Golden Arm was around, because he had been pitching for a long time. Rumor has it that he was the one who taught Hoyt Wilhelm’s father how to throw a knuckleball.
On a hot muggy day in late July, my dream finally came true. We were playing the last place team and Golden Arm had such distain for them that he refused to waste his talents on them and risk fatiguing his golden arm, especially because it was hot and muggy, so he finally let me pitch. Ah yes, at last, my big chance. I figure if I can pitch a shutout, I might get to pitch more often. Since we were playing the last place team, several of our other players were also trying new positions, but nevertheless I had the utmost confidence that our fine athletes would be able to adapt to any position, except of course pitching, which today was mine alone.
Okay, here comes the first batter. How do you like my Charlton Heston stance? Here, see if you can hit this, you turkey….ah, an easy ground ball to our diminutive second baseman, which gallops merrily into right field after passing thru the tiny arch formed by his legs. I did not think a 16 inch softball could fit thru there. No problem, we will get the next guy. This time it is a grounder between first and second and these two infielders, gentlemen that they were, would not dream of getting in each other’s way, so they stand there looking at each other as the ball once again gallops merrily into right field. Aww, just throw the ball to second base…don’t throw it to third…he did not throw it to third, he threw it into the spectators. Well, there goes the shutout. Next comes an easy ground ball to the shortstop, and then you hear lots of ooohs and aaahs as this time the throw airmails the spectators. Another ground ball to the shortstop, and as he carefully lines up his throw, the ball slips out of his hands and rolls feebly back to the mound. I am getting dizzy watching runners circling the bases. At last a ground ball to the pitcher. I am not going to risk any more throws, so I run over to try to tag the runner who tries to slide at the same time and the other team thinks I knocked him down, so they began to call me some very vile names, and casting considerable doubt upon my ancestry.
A few innings later, the insults have died down and I have once again assumed my Charlton Heston stance, and the defense was rearranged to prevent a repeat of the first inning. Another slow ground ball between first and second. I notice the first baseman fielding the ball so I run over to cover first base. But then the first baseman runs toward the base to make the putout himself, and I foresee a 3 way collision coming up, so I stop short. Aww, what did you throw the ball to me for? Now the first baseman is all shook up and apologetic. It is becoming hard to look cool under these conditions. Next comes a hard grounder to the third baseman. Nice pickup, perfect throw. Our shook up first baseman drops it. Then comes a texas leaguer flyball to short left. Our left fielder makes a nice running catch and we have the runner doubled off first. Nice throw on one bounce to our shook up first baseman. Aww, don’t juggle it. By the time he gets it under control, he stretches too far and falls, pulling his foot off the base and the runner gets back safely. Another ground ball to third. Try for a double play. Good throw, but the second baseman trying to turn the double play, tries to throw it before he catches it and drops it. Another grounder to third. The third baseman starts to throw it to first, but I bellowed at the top of my lungs to step on the base instead, and he sheepishly tiptoes over to step on the bag to get the force. Now he was shook up too. Next inning we put him in the outfield where he drops two consecutive fly balls.
By now I am pinching myself hoping that this is only a nightmare. I am trying my best to make them hit the ball nowhere else but to the pitcher. An infield popup to our shook up first baseman, please please catch it! He did, he really caught it! Yes! I am so overjoyed that the first baseman is hacked off at me for being sarcastic, saying "You expected something else?" Our astute shortstop thinks this is pretty funny, so he is in hysterics. I never had to watch any plays anymore, all I had to do was listen to the shortstop. If he is laughing, the runner must have been safe for some reason, for which I could not bear to look. It is now the last inning, the bases are loaded, we are only up by one run, and there is only one out. One more base hit for them would win the game.
Even though my earned run average was still zero, Golden Arm had seen enough, so he calls himself out of the bullpen to put out the fire. The next batter smokes a hard line drive into the chest of our third baseman with a resounding thud, but he held on for the out, and then spent the rest of the game rubbing his chest with the facial expression of one who had just sucked a lemon. Two outs. The next batter hits a long one and our left fielder looks like a wide receiver on a post pattern as he stretches out to make a diving catch going away.
Game over. Golden Arm had put out the fire on just 2 pitches, and notified me that because I was not able to stop the other team, the experiment was over, my fate once again was to be banished forever into the wilderness of center field, while on the mound the ladies man would continue to do his thing.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Odyssey of the Maulers - Some crazy softball nights in 1976.
Our Maulers team qualified for the double elimination playoffs in both the Schaumburg and Mt Prospect leagues, and the schedules conflicted because we had lost a game to the McGaffers in the early rounds in Mt Prospect so we had to play in the losers bracker at 6pm and 9:30, and also that same night were scheduled to play in the winners bracket in Schaumburg at 7:30 and 8:30. Rather than forfeit any games we decided to play it by ear, so if one game was not going well we would just quit and head for the other town.
Our 6pm was against the Hoskins Chevy Satyrs, a team that had beaten us earlier during the season. Our strategy was to avoid any delays, no throwing the ball around between innings, no taking hittable pitches, and the Satyrs were wondering why we were acting so wierd and we told them our schedule plight. In the last inning, we had them beat and rather than finish the game they told us the game is over right now, wished us luck and told us to get to Schaumburg. We thanked them for that bit of class and raced to our cars, and luckily somehow made most of the stoplights, getting to Schaumburg only 4 minutes before forfeit time. No warmups, play ball. While we were still thanking the Satyrs for this lucky break, the Foxes pounced on us, showing no mercy, and forced us to come from behind with 3 runs in the last inning to tie the score. The game went 10 innings, and we finally won by one run.
We then had to choose whether to hang around for the next game or forfeit and head to Mt Prospect. Since it was double elimination we decided to take a forfeit. That gave us a little bit of time for our convoy to get to Mt Prospect, but every red light was excruciating while we watched the clocks tick away towards game time. We once again arrived 4 minutes before forfeit time, no warmups, play ball. Somehow we won another one run game against Scanda House, so incredibly we were still alive in both playoffs, albeit in the losers bracket in both places.
On the following night (fortunately no conflicts with Schaumburg that night) we had a chance to get revenge on the McGaffers who did us a favor knocking off our nemesis the Northbrook Jokers. We raced out to a big lead but the McGaffers stormed back yelling "they're getting tired" (they were right) and one of the spectators shut them up with one of the better retorts I had ever heard "Of course they're tired, you made them run around the bases 19 times". I will never forget one of the catches made by the McGaffers center fielder. One of our power hitters hit the gap in right center, and I could still envision the marginal convergence of ball and fielder who dove sideways, caught the ball just off the ground, somehow did a perfect somersault, and came up throwing. Way better than the Willie Mays catch.
We ended up winning by 2 runs to get to the Mt Prospect finals against legendary Jack Olson's Shooters/Scrappers, who breezed thru the winners bracket, thereby having no schedule problems, so we had to beat them twice due to the double elimination format. Jack had a way of pitching the ball right into the outfield lights so the batter could not see it. I told everyone to stand away from the plate, wait for the pitch to come out of the lights, and then take it to right field. It worked perfectly and we won both games handily. I got the game ball for that and it is still on display in my family room.
On the next day in Schaumburg, we fought our way thru the loser's bracket and guess who our opponents were for the finals the following night? It was the Shooters/Scrappers again, who had once again breezed thru the winners bracket, avoiding the schedule conflicts that we encountered. I thought I saw them roll their eyes as we showed up as their opponent. Clearly we had their number, and again we beat them twice to win both titles.
We were completely out of energy, but it no longer mattered, the season was over, and we had two improbable titles, and the beer never tasted any better. And to think if it were not for the class of the Satyrs, none of this this would probably ever have happened.
The Schaumburg league in the next few years had gained a reputation for being the most competitive in the suburbs. This attracted teams looking for better games, having been first place in their own town: Addison Freeloaders and Pacers, Dundee Wizards, Park Ridge Hardin Paving and Blue Chip Lounge, Crystal Lake Foxes, Palatine Crispy Critters, Elk Grove Stowaways, Chicago Eagles, American Rivet, Rollers, and Registers, Mount Prospect Scrappers/Shooters, and the DesPlaines Bruisers, who ironically would be our opponent in the finals of the 1978 State Tournament, and we had to play them again in the Schaumburg league the very next week after the State Tournament, which was comprised of 32 first place teams, one each from different towns including the Amalgamonsters from Chicago who were eliminated in the semifinals by those same Bruisers. Our path to the State finals saw us defeating the Melrose Park Pirates, Barrington Circus, Elmhurst Clowns, Northbrook Jokers, and in the finals we clobbered the Bruisers for the state title, and then clobbered them again in the Schaumburg league the following week. During the late '70's the Maulers won traveling tournaments in Carpentersville, McHenry, Hanover Park, Schaumburg, Mount Prospect, and DesPlaines. The team disbanded after the 1980 season, losing in the finals of the Metro Tournament to Chicago Lettuce, who then went on to finish second in the national tournament.
What made the Maulers different than most other top teams was the fact that they played every game with the same nucleus, no ringers, unlike many other tournament teams.
Our Maulers team qualified for the double elimination playoffs in both the Schaumburg and Mt Prospect leagues, and the schedules conflicted because we had lost a game to the McGaffers in the early rounds in Mt Prospect so we had to play in the losers bracker at 6pm and 9:30, and also that same night were scheduled to play in the winners bracket in Schaumburg at 7:30 and 8:30. Rather than forfeit any games we decided to play it by ear, so if one game was not going well we would just quit and head for the other town.
Our 6pm was against the Hoskins Chevy Satyrs, a team that had beaten us earlier during the season. Our strategy was to avoid any delays, no throwing the ball around between innings, no taking hittable pitches, and the Satyrs were wondering why we were acting so wierd and we told them our schedule plight. In the last inning, we had them beat and rather than finish the game they told us the game is over right now, wished us luck and told us to get to Schaumburg. We thanked them for that bit of class and raced to our cars, and luckily somehow made most of the stoplights, getting to Schaumburg only 4 minutes before forfeit time. No warmups, play ball. While we were still thanking the Satyrs for this lucky break, the Foxes pounced on us, showing no mercy, and forced us to come from behind with 3 runs in the last inning to tie the score. The game went 10 innings, and we finally won by one run.
We then had to choose whether to hang around for the next game or forfeit and head to Mt Prospect. Since it was double elimination we decided to take a forfeit. That gave us a little bit of time for our convoy to get to Mt Prospect, but every red light was excruciating while we watched the clocks tick away towards game time. We once again arrived 4 minutes before forfeit time, no warmups, play ball. Somehow we won another one run game against Scanda House, so incredibly we were still alive in both playoffs, albeit in the losers bracket in both places.
On the following night (fortunately no conflicts with Schaumburg that night) we had a chance to get revenge on the McGaffers who did us a favor knocking off our nemesis the Northbrook Jokers. We raced out to a big lead but the McGaffers stormed back yelling "they're getting tired" (they were right) and one of the spectators shut them up with one of the better retorts I had ever heard "Of course they're tired, you made them run around the bases 19 times". I will never forget one of the catches made by the McGaffers center fielder. One of our power hitters hit the gap in right center, and I could still envision the marginal convergence of ball and fielder who dove sideways, caught the ball just off the ground, somehow did a perfect somersault, and came up throwing. Way better than the Willie Mays catch.
We ended up winning by 2 runs to get to the Mt Prospect finals against legendary Jack Olson's Shooters/Scrappers, who breezed thru the winners bracket, thereby having no schedule problems, so we had to beat them twice due to the double elimination format. Jack had a way of pitching the ball right into the outfield lights so the batter could not see it. I told everyone to stand away from the plate, wait for the pitch to come out of the lights, and then take it to right field. It worked perfectly and we won both games handily. I got the game ball for that and it is still on display in my family room.
On the next day in Schaumburg, we fought our way thru the loser's bracket and guess who our opponents were for the finals the following night? It was the Shooters/Scrappers again, who had once again breezed thru the winners bracket, avoiding the schedule conflicts that we encountered. I thought I saw them roll their eyes as we showed up as their opponent. Clearly we had their number, and again we beat them twice to win both titles.
We were completely out of energy, but it no longer mattered, the season was over, and we had two improbable titles, and the beer never tasted any better. And to think if it were not for the class of the Satyrs, none of this this would probably ever have happened.
The Schaumburg league in the next few years had gained a reputation for being the most competitive in the suburbs. This attracted teams looking for better games, having been first place in their own town: Addison Freeloaders and Pacers, Dundee Wizards, Park Ridge Hardin Paving and Blue Chip Lounge, Crystal Lake Foxes, Palatine Crispy Critters, Elk Grove Stowaways, Chicago Eagles, American Rivet, Rollers, and Registers, Mount Prospect Scrappers/Shooters, and the DesPlaines Bruisers, who ironically would be our opponent in the finals of the 1978 State Tournament, and we had to play them again in the Schaumburg league the very next week after the State Tournament, which was comprised of 32 first place teams, one each from different towns including the Amalgamonsters from Chicago who were eliminated in the semifinals by those same Bruisers. Our path to the State finals saw us defeating the Melrose Park Pirates, Barrington Circus, Elmhurst Clowns, Northbrook Jokers, and in the finals we clobbered the Bruisers for the state title, and then clobbered them again in the Schaumburg league the following week. During the late '70's the Maulers won traveling tournaments in Carpentersville, McHenry, Hanover Park, Schaumburg, Mount Prospect, and DesPlaines. The team disbanded after the 1980 season, losing in the finals of the Metro Tournament to Chicago Lettuce, who then went on to finish second in the national tournament.
What made the Maulers different than most other top teams was the fact that they played every game with the same nucleus, no ringers, unlike many other tournament teams.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
While checking my junk mail one day, I came across this and the following events ensued...
Joe,
My name is Scott and I found your contact info on the web because I was searching for a 16" hitting coach for my team. You run a great blog for your league ( http://o50network.blogspot.com/ ) and it seems you are a golf instructor and I wondered if you would teach softball as well. Here's the deal - I played 16" in the south suburbs for a number of years. This year, after a number of years off, I decided to start a team in Wilmette where I live now. I mainly did it for the beers and camaraderie while aiming to be competitive. The problem is that while we do have some former athletes who stay active (everyone is 40ish) we are struggling at the plate while slowly improving in the field. We are 0-7 and are getting slaughtered by the more experienced teams. Many of us are competitive and while we do like the postgame activities, we need to win.We need help. Let me know if this is something you would be interested in (as early as this weekend) or if you have any other suggestions.Thanks so much.
Scott
Hello Scott, I would be happy to help. The question is where and when. When you have time later today, call me at my work number 847-304-7185 so we can discuss.
Joe
Joe,
In terms of the all-in cost for your time and travel let me know what you think, specifically on the travel part as we discussed the time portion of $1/minute. If you need to adjust any part of the cost structure just let me know. I shot an email out and I have at least half a dozen people so far and waiting for some more responses. Let's plan for 7:15am Sunday morning for an hour or so. The park is across from my house and is called Howard Park. If you're up for it, I'm envisioning you giving us some general tips followed by some or all of our guys taking some swings and you giving any feedback or tips. As to the first part, I'll leave it to you, but some things that I think would be helpful for us are: some general tips on swing mechanics (where to stand in the box, swing, follow through, etc.), proper thought process when we come to the plate (what you're thinking about in terms of your swing, placement, etc.) and an approach at the plate (what kind of pitch to look for, where to try to hit the ball). And if any other things come up that are not hitting-specific, we'd be happy to have any help we can get (best type of bat to use). While most of us have played baseball or 12" softball, we don't have a ton of 16" experience. As to the individualized tips, we have a range of abilities, from a few guys who don't have much experience swinging a bat at any level to most of us who have played baseball and some softball over the years. But for whatever reason, we haven't been able to translate the experience we have to hitting in game situations. So my guess is that there might be some simple tips for some guys that could make a big difference. Sorry for such a brain dump here but thought it would make all of our time more productive.
Scott
(following the session I learned their team name is the Dead Cougars since this was the neighborhood from which the news story came about a cougar on the loose being killed here)
The session consisted of both soft toss with individual critique, along with regular batting practice hitting to all fields. Click here for videos http://www.youtube.com/user/deadcougar
Scott's notes from the session:
Hitting:
1. Simplify your swing thoughts, this is not golf, no time to think of mechanics
2. Setup-weight back, arms back
3. Execution-keep the head steady so you can see the ball better.
4. Drive off the back leg in the direction you want to aim
5. look at the defense and see what they're giving you
6. with 2 strikes go with the pitch and an 80 percent swing, don't try to pull it
7. if you can't hit a high arching pitch "tomahawk" it
8. if you like a low pitch stand back in the box, if you like higher, move up front in the box
9. No gifts for the defense, never hit the ball to 3rd with runners on 1st & 2nd
10. when going to the right side,
a) wait till the ball is passed you, really wait, and then wait some more,
b) don't break the wrists (you will on the follow through, but don't try to),
c) step toward right field.
11. productive outs to move the runners is ok, so hit the ball to the right side with bases loaded, or runners on 1st and 2nd Base with less than 2 outs.
12. swing the heaviest bat you can as long as you don't sacrifice bat speed.
13. a lighter bat will give you more control, which is important when aiming at a hole.
Pitching:
1. Never give the batter the pitch he is looking for, if you can tell that the guy is trying to pull the ball, step toward 1st base and pitch him outside
2. if he's going to right step toward 3rd and try to jam him.
3. No batting practice pitches, do not pitch from the rubber, step off the rubber as far as you can either side.
4. Get as much arc on the pitch as legally possible, these are harder to hit.
5. After releasing the pitch, back up and play defense.
Defense:
1. No gifts, make the offense earn everything.
2. Know in advance if the ball is hit to you where are you going to throw.
3. on high infield spinners try to "alligator clamp" the ball right hand on top of left hand.
Joe wrote me this morning and gave us another tip. "One more thing that could make the difference between winning and losing. On defense, just because a ball is not hit to you, you still have a job to do, and that is to back up a base in case of an overthrow. I have seen teams lose just because of one bad play like this where nobody backed up the base and the ball got away and the winning run scored."
Attitude:
1. To improve focus, play the game a little angry (actually I said PO'd)
2. Give constant encouragement to teammates
3. bust chops after the game with a "kangaroo court" - charge fines for mental errors.
First, it looks like we have full attendance tomorrow. McDonnell has been instructed to bring enough beer. Let's get out there at 6:00pm to warmup and practice our new skills.
Second, here are the videos from practice. http://www.youtube.com/user/deadcougar
(after the session)
(from Dan H) Scott! That was great… and incredibly helpful to me personally as a "newbie" to the game. With the lessons learned on Sunday and continued "guidance" from my teammates, my goal is to be more of a contributor to our future WINS! And Joe, thank you for your time, insight, guidance and risking your life for the betterment of "The Dead Cougars"!!
Dan H
(from Steve F) Ideally the guys that were not there on Sunday morning could get to the game early tomorrow for some pointers from Scott "Wannabe Joe" Radtke.
(from Scott) "That's why the old guys beat the younger teams." -Coach Joe addressing the team on Sunday morning. This quote really addresses the fact that playing a smart game is just as important (if not more important) as being athletic.
It was a productive session and we will give a refresher course to the folks that were not there. My favorite part was playing soft toss with the rain and lightning. I will send out the videos later today. Joe is copied on this email. I traded emails with Joe this morning and he wishes us luck on Tuesday and we need to let him know how it went.
I realize now that we should have had at least one example demonstrating the correct stance and swing. Next time we have Joe out with us we can put him in front of the camera.
(Joe's comments: As a testimonial to my teaching skills, the Dead Cougars enthusiatically went to their next game and got beat 10-0. Oh well. It turns out that this league has an unlimited arch pitching rule, and can be a very difficult pitch to hit. Although I did mention you should try to tomahawk such a pitch, I should have conducted an actual drill on this, and after I said so to Scott, they had their own practice for the high arch pitch).
About 9 guys came out to a practice on Saturday morning. Our pitcher threw for about 90 minutes while we had a competitive BP (teams of 2 against each other with fielders - hits were one point) as well as some regular BP. I told our pitcher that I wanted as high an arc as possible while still pitching strikes. I brought out a car mat that would be as big as the strike zone well and he had to hit that for it to be a strike.
As a result, here is more news from Scott... [my comments in brackets]
(July 1, 2008)
The Dead Cougars are alive! We did it -- we beat the Misfit Beavers 13-12. Now that was true Chicago 16-inch softball. Lots of runs, great plays, unreal hustle on the basepaths, jawing with the opponent, and a tension filled 7th. I have no idea where to begin. As Danielsen put it at the postgame, for most of our games, the discussion is about one good play we had, but after this game, there were more good plays than we could remember. Even the day after, it's still a blur. Should I begin with the fact that we scored more runs in one game than we have in the entire season? Or Lipsey lighting the fuse with a solid hit on the first pitch of the game and motoring around to score on Martin's hit? What about Martin switch hitting, doing his Brooks Robinson impersonation at 3B and setting the tone for a scrappy game by tagging up and somehow scoring on an infield pop out? Or Danielsen hitting a ground rule double to the opposite field? Or Bobis coming through with clutch hit after clutch hit? Or Melchoirre pitching a great game with sweet high arcs and helping his cause with an RBI single? Or Fortier's flawless shortstop play? Or how about Dr. Phil getting body slammed and coming back to get the final out? Or the ump calling their SS a fuc*ing a**hole (which he did midgame, and to which they responded, "That is the only call you made right all night!")? Or how about Julie being called a f'ing wh*re by their first baseman?
[my favorite part] Nope, none of that will suffice. The way to begin is to let you know that I woke up this morning after 5 hours of sleep, very sore, slight headache, dehydrated, rough throat, in my uniform, smelling of sweat, bug spray and beer, walked down the stairs and looked at our mantle over the fireplace and next to our wedding picture (taken 13 years ago today) and a crystal vase there sits the game ball and the cork to the bottle of champagne. Now that is a good feeling!
Our bats were alive. Everybody put a good swing on the ball. Right field, left field, hard grounders, line shots. I would venture to say that we did Joe D. proud last night. Our defense was stellar and almost flawless. The highlight of our defense was the fact that we made the correct throws every time and did not let them take the extra base. We even made a couple putouts at the bases, most notably when Lipsey gunned down a runner at third with Martin calmly applying the tag. Our baserunning was aggressive. We took the extra base at every chance, hustled and beat out what should have been routine outs and even had Hoglund doing the Cowboy Dance during a rundown. Speaking of baserunning, Phil looked like he hit a brick wall when their 400 pound first baseman put his shoulder into him as he was crossing first base and knocked him sideways. Although the Beavers had arms as big as sewer pipes hanging from their sides, I was ready to throw hands right there. Thankfully the ump kicked him out of the game, which gave him ample time to sit his ample a*s on the bench and plead with the park district guy that the ump sucks and all he did was lean in to catch the throw. He was really just an innocent victim, right? At which point, Julie couldn't hold her tongue and had to call, "That is such bull!" Then one of their girlfriends let the park district guy know that the ump shouldn't call their guy an a**hole. "Then they shouldn't act like a**holes!" is what came out of my little wife's mouth. "Shut up, fuc*ing whore," is apparently how their victimized first baseman responded to that. As she said after the game, you can take the girl out of the south side, but you can't take the south side out of the girl. Joe D. said to play angry and I guess that extends to the wives as well. This being the Dead Cougars going for their first win, of course, it wouldn't be easy. We entered the bottom of the 7th with a 13-6 lead. But the Beavers started finding the narrow gaps in our defense and came storming back to make it 13-12, putting runners on the corners with two outs. After Lipinski's brief discussion with the ump to figure out if the ejected Beaver's spot in the lineup had come up, their left handed power hitter hit a long drive down the right field line. In a turn that can only be considered poetic justice, Phil raced over to the line, camped under the ball and squeezed it to seal the victory. [my comment, I can only imagine the euphoria of getting their first win, it must have been a mob scene, I wish I could have seen that].
Melchiorre came through with a postgame fitting for the occasion. Beer on ice, pizzas fresh out of the oven and a perfect setting on the front porch. I was happy that I was able to pop open those bottles of Wilmette's finest bubbly and now won't be haunted by them every time I open my fridge [another one of my favorite imaginations]. As one Cougar put it, the beer tastes better after a win (to me, this indicates you guys have finally arrived). As another said, the Cougars are undefeated in July. And as Flannery put it [this is freakin priceless], "When you consider the euro, there are four distinct reasons for its increase in value, number one..." (No word on whether the Beavers were having a similar discussion at their postgame.) Huge props to Jen and Julie, our two fans (or witnesses as Greg called them). It was a great night and well-deserved for a great bunch of guys. I was grateful that Oxer was able to make it out on his daughter's birthday, and I wish Trout and my brother could have been there (although with their enthusiasm we may have spent the postgame behind bars), but hopefully this is the first in a long line of Cougar victories.
post game comments from various teammates:
What a great TEAM effort last night and some pretty amazing individual efforts as well!! I am a Dead Cougar with his head held high!!
Awesome...just awesome... " Then they shouldn't act like a**holes!" I love it!!!
It was a long drive back to Berwyn for the Frustrated Beavers.
Great narrative, Great team effort and a Great W!
The Captain modestly neglected to mention his stellar play in left field and dead strike to home plate from left.
That makes my day! Go Cougars! I know there will be plenty more wins! Way to put some spice into the game, Julie!
Julie, you are one tough chick...Scott, I see a future for you as a Sox announcer or sportswriter...great follow-up email.
Joe, even though it was a 90 minute lesson, your words and demonstration have really helped us. We have referred to it often. We need to set up another time for you to come out and provide more individual instruction to the group.
[my final comment - This most accurately captures the essence of Chicago style bare handed 16 inch softball. And Dead Cougars, your team chemistry is top notch, and that will certainly lead to more success in the future. Thank you for letting me enjoy your success, no charge for future sessions.]
Further reports from Wilmette:
Highlights of the next game (a loss that threw a scare into one of the top teams in the league):
Flannery sliding at home plate and falling short by about a foot for the last out of the game looking up at the ump and indicating he was safe. Tim also had a great unassisted double play.
· Our resident dentist getting picked off first was a beauty (that will cost you in kangaroo court next year). Phil showed off his range and great arm in the outfield – who knew? Phil is throwing his body everywhere and is hoping Brooks Brothers carries blood free pants so his knee doesn't soak through.
· Bobis played an excellent 2B featuring a line shot that tripled the size of his left nipple.
· As I was leaving the house for the train I heard some noise at the park and walked over. Trout was still there debating the ump about what constitutes the baseline (Trout was called out for running out of the baseline while approaching 2nd base from right field).
· Martin once again was a spark plug out of the box to get us on the board with an early lead.
· Danielsen hitting our team's first triple of the season. Also, it was great to have Kristen joining the Cougars postgame activity.
· I really enjoyed the 4 or 5 Radtke to Radtke putouts. Marc played a flawless 1B. BTW, Marc, the dog's name is Chase not Chuck.
· I did not enjoy getting my wind knocked out as I dove for a putout at 3B. I had the dirtiest shirt award until Flannery's headfirst slide.
· Lipsey with a pulled hammy covering tons of ground and showing off the accurate gun holstered to his shoulder.
· Otsuka also with great catches and throws and a featuring sweet throw for a putout at 3B.
· Oxer hustling out a great hit and throwing another top notch postgame. Jeremy is now the official 5 hour energy supplier (dealer, distributor, enabler - you choose the word). http://www.5hourenergy.com/
· Melchiorre getting compliments from Grandpa's on a great pitching performance. Although Dave would have like the umpire to share that same opinion.
· I think we have a following – lots of wives out there. Cougars dig Cougars! (Otsuka's coined phrase - he has already trademarked it and shirts will be on sale next game).
· We are gaining a following outside the Cougar family as well! We have neighbors, friends and other teams all rooting for us. It was great to have a Flynner join us for a nightcap and have him and Trouter share the leprechauns in Vegas story.
...and the following week...
With a victory we would move up a spot and be tied for 9th place. With a loss we might be basement dwellers once again. We have exactly 10 for the game tonight with the debut of The Joke Writer as our pitcher. Pete has been instructed to kiss the sky with his pitches, get high like Jimi Hendrix and put the Cheiftons in a green haze. One quick story. So I was drinking beers Friday night with some folks who live on Washington and back up to Howard Park. A certain woman says to me, "So, did you have the Cougars out for a practice on Sunday morning?" I said, "Yup, we got out there at about 7am and were out there for a couple hours." She said, "Yes, (pause) I know, you woke me up!" "Really," I said, "There were only five of us, I didn't think we were talking that loud." She said, "It was the bat hitting the ball that woke me up." That is just awesome! At first I figured she heard a hungover Trouter holding court in left field holding his Venti Iced Americano and catching balls with his non-injured hand, then I realized our sweet swings are waking up the neighborhood. That is beautiful.
"I Think The Cougars Are A Warm Weather Team"
- Greg Otsuka quote from after our April 29th opening day 35-1 loss in 40 degree weather.
After a bit of research, it turns out Greg is right. According to the Canadian government agency that collects cougar-related data, warm weather causes a jump in cougar attacks.
The warm weather last night fueled our 8-5 assault on our opponent and now fetches us a 3-1 record in July. We are also undefeated in position games and rematches.
Speaking of violence, according to the official scorebook Marc has officially not been present for our two victories. He decided to pull a Doug Plank on the second baseman early in the game on a force out and was promptly booted from the game by the umpire. After the game, Marc indicated that he thought it was perfectly fine to knock the defensive player silly because Jeremy did to the catcher on the Hitmen.
Unquestionably, the hero of the game was our man "Big Z" Lipsey. Pete brought out his "good Carlos" with a right arm that threw some lofty strikes, walking only one, and when we were down 5-3 with the bases loaded in the bottom of the 6th, he unloaded a shot to left center for a grand slam that put us ahead for good. It was absolutely unbelievable! One of the most exciting moments of the year!
Other offensive highlights include the following.
We were down 5-1 in the top of the 6th and before Lipsey nailed his granny (who ironically is a cougar, ahem), we had hits from Otsuka, Trout, McDonnell, Hoglund (with a reprise of the Cowboy Dance) and Oxer, which yielded us two runs to get us to 5-3.
It was Oxer's first run of the season. It would have been his second if it wasn't for the aforementioned play at the plate.
Also, in the 6th, we batted around the order for the first time this season. Danielsen led off the 6th with an out but came up again later in the inning with me on 1B and got a hit for our final run.
Our defense came through once again as the young, strong and quick Chieftons sprayed hard shots around the field.
Our outfield was flawless with Otsuka, Trout and McDonnell covering the green pasture with ease.
In CF, Trouter had a bullet throw to Marc at third that almost gunned out the runner.
Flannery was an all-purpose player while playing three positions.
I was fired up about my first double play of the season (well, first one on defense).
On the injury front, it looks like Trouter will be on the DL for at least next week. He pulled a groin (his own thankfully) during our big inning. What is very interesting is that Mike Flynn on the Hitmen, who is Trout's college roommate and current co-worker also has a pulled groin. Rumor has it that Bobis isn't the only one with an Open Stance video.
Jeff "Open Stance" Bobis, who was not supposed to show up, pulled an Oxer and rushed to make the postgame festivities after swilling a number of employer mandated beers. Little did he know he would be rushed into duty to make our then 9-person squad a full 10. He played a fine half inning and like the sick kid who shows up for last period, he kept his Ripken practice and game attendance streak alive.
The Cougar contingent was disappointed that a few of our pack were unable to attend.
Martin was on the high waters of Lake Michigan sailing in the 100th Race to Mackinac.
Fortier was transacting business in Tokyo where just moments ago he enjoyed a serious earthquake.
Melchiorre was enjoying a concert with a former Cougar and I think got to go backstage and meet John Mellencamp.
Lipinski was taking a client to dinner and did everything he could to get out of it.
We are not just the talk of the town now but of the whole North Shore. Not only did a woman stop me while walking my dog this morning to say congratulations (thanks, Kristen aka The Jokewriteress) but I also was at lunch at The Botanic Gardens and was stopped by a woman who said she was really excited (that's what she said) to hear about our win. So, news travels fast. I'm seriously thinking we need to market our own t-shirts, hats, and thongs (The Wide Stance Collection) to the masses before we let another get-rich-quick opportunity slip away.
For further news, visit http://deadcougars.blogspot.com/
After the season, I was invited to their postseason party (with a cougar "sfx" hiss). Unfortunately I could not attend since my daughter was visiting us from Seattle, so I felt I should at least try to give a worthy response...
Cougar Nation, thanks for inviting me to your postseason party, but I cannot attend, my daughter is visiting us from Seattle that weekend.
Nation, I gotta tell ya, it was fun reading about your adventures this year, especially the first win. I wish I could see a replay of the final out, it must have been quite a rush. This brought all the old clichés to mind: They are finally off the schneid, the monkey is off their back, the horse is out of the barn. (using the voice of NFL Films)... The monkey and horse were promptly devoured by a pack of hungry Cougars, once thought to be dead but clearly very much alive, and officially dangerous.
Those who have not met me yet may be wondering, who is this guy? OK I will tell you. I am a 61 year old little kid who never grew up and has no plans to do so any time soon.
My boyhood hero was Peter Pan because he never wanted to grow up either. Imagine what a blow it was to my manhood when I learned the part of Peter Pan was being played by a woman named Mary Martin. Jeff was that your granny? If so, tell her to watch out for Lipsey (ahem) (re: the Chieftons game).
...So is this guy supposed to be some know-it-all Guru? No, but at age 61 I have been around the block a few times, and in doing so, I have been able to observe a few things, and all I am trying to do is to pass on some of these observations on to you, so you don’t have to wait until you are 61 to figure them out all by yourself.
Now if I am supposed to act like a Guru, then I must give you a Mantra, or words to live by. This should be easy to remember, it is only two words. No, the second word is not You.
This Mantra is something I had previously mentioned to you, “NO GIFTS”. If an opponent is going to beat you, they will have to do that with no help from you. We will be working on minimizing the two types of gifts or errors, physical and mental. On the physical side, there are better ways to throw and catch this type of ball. We must especially minimize the mental errors because they are ALWAYS unnecessary gifts. Little things can change the momentum of a game. Strikeouts or foul-outs are gifts, so better to put the ball in play and give their defense a chance to mess it up. Aiming hits to where there might be easy force outs are gifts. Throwing the ball to the wrong place is a gift. Forgetting to back up a base if the ball is not hit to you may result in a gift if there is an overthrow. Letting a fly ball drop for fear of a collision is a gift.
The list of potential gifts goes on, but I challenge you to Absorb And Live This Mantra, make it part of your mindset. NO GIFTS. Well OK I will reluctantly make exceptions for Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, and other such events.
I still have more ways to make this Mantra sink in, so next spring if you want me to, I will travel once again to the land where Moses lost his shoes, and hopefully help you get to the next level.
In closing, I must confess, I really envy you guys because you have decades of good softball ahead of you, as opposed to guys my age who fear the current season might be their last. Heck we do not even bother buying green bananas anymore.
Anyway, I raise a glass and salute you for inviting me to be involved with people who really understand what Chicago style 16 inch softball is all about, ... attitude, pride, enthusiasm, camaraderie. You guys have got it all. God bless. SFX!
Joe D.
for their full story, see their blog from the bottom up, http://deadcougars.blogspot.com
Joe,
My name is Scott and I found your contact info on the web because I was searching for a 16" hitting coach for my team. You run a great blog for your league ( http://o50network.blogspot.com/ ) and it seems you are a golf instructor and I wondered if you would teach softball as well. Here's the deal - I played 16" in the south suburbs for a number of years. This year, after a number of years off, I decided to start a team in Wilmette where I live now. I mainly did it for the beers and camaraderie while aiming to be competitive. The problem is that while we do have some former athletes who stay active (everyone is 40ish) we are struggling at the plate while slowly improving in the field. We are 0-7 and are getting slaughtered by the more experienced teams. Many of us are competitive and while we do like the postgame activities, we need to win.We need help. Let me know if this is something you would be interested in (as early as this weekend) or if you have any other suggestions.Thanks so much.
Scott
Hello Scott, I would be happy to help. The question is where and when. When you have time later today, call me at my work number 847-304-7185 so we can discuss.
Joe
Joe,
In terms of the all-in cost for your time and travel let me know what you think, specifically on the travel part as we discussed the time portion of $1/minute. If you need to adjust any part of the cost structure just let me know. I shot an email out and I have at least half a dozen people so far and waiting for some more responses. Let's plan for 7:15am Sunday morning for an hour or so. The park is across from my house and is called Howard Park. If you're up for it, I'm envisioning you giving us some general tips followed by some or all of our guys taking some swings and you giving any feedback or tips. As to the first part, I'll leave it to you, but some things that I think would be helpful for us are: some general tips on swing mechanics (where to stand in the box, swing, follow through, etc.), proper thought process when we come to the plate (what you're thinking about in terms of your swing, placement, etc.) and an approach at the plate (what kind of pitch to look for, where to try to hit the ball). And if any other things come up that are not hitting-specific, we'd be happy to have any help we can get (best type of bat to use). While most of us have played baseball or 12" softball, we don't have a ton of 16" experience. As to the individualized tips, we have a range of abilities, from a few guys who don't have much experience swinging a bat at any level to most of us who have played baseball and some softball over the years. But for whatever reason, we haven't been able to translate the experience we have to hitting in game situations. So my guess is that there might be some simple tips for some guys that could make a big difference. Sorry for such a brain dump here but thought it would make all of our time more productive.
Scott
(following the session I learned their team name is the Dead Cougars since this was the neighborhood from which the news story came about a cougar on the loose being killed here)
The session consisted of both soft toss with individual critique, along with regular batting practice hitting to all fields. Click here for videos http://www.youtube.com/user/deadcougar
Scott's notes from the session:
Hitting:
1. Simplify your swing thoughts, this is not golf, no time to think of mechanics
2. Setup-weight back, arms back
3. Execution-keep the head steady so you can see the ball better.
4. Drive off the back leg in the direction you want to aim
5. look at the defense and see what they're giving you
6. with 2 strikes go with the pitch and an 80 percent swing, don't try to pull it
7. if you can't hit a high arching pitch "tomahawk" it
8. if you like a low pitch stand back in the box, if you like higher, move up front in the box
9. No gifts for the defense, never hit the ball to 3rd with runners on 1st & 2nd
10. when going to the right side,
a) wait till the ball is passed you, really wait, and then wait some more,
b) don't break the wrists (you will on the follow through, but don't try to),
c) step toward right field.
11. productive outs to move the runners is ok, so hit the ball to the right side with bases loaded, or runners on 1st and 2nd Base with less than 2 outs.
12. swing the heaviest bat you can as long as you don't sacrifice bat speed.
13. a lighter bat will give you more control, which is important when aiming at a hole.
Pitching:
1. Never give the batter the pitch he is looking for, if you can tell that the guy is trying to pull the ball, step toward 1st base and pitch him outside
2. if he's going to right step toward 3rd and try to jam him.
3. No batting practice pitches, do not pitch from the rubber, step off the rubber as far as you can either side.
4. Get as much arc on the pitch as legally possible, these are harder to hit.
5. After releasing the pitch, back up and play defense.
Defense:
1. No gifts, make the offense earn everything.
2. Know in advance if the ball is hit to you where are you going to throw.
3. on high infield spinners try to "alligator clamp" the ball right hand on top of left hand.
Joe wrote me this morning and gave us another tip. "One more thing that could make the difference between winning and losing. On defense, just because a ball is not hit to you, you still have a job to do, and that is to back up a base in case of an overthrow. I have seen teams lose just because of one bad play like this where nobody backed up the base and the ball got away and the winning run scored."
Attitude:
1. To improve focus, play the game a little angry (actually I said PO'd)
2. Give constant encouragement to teammates
3. bust chops after the game with a "kangaroo court" - charge fines for mental errors.
First, it looks like we have full attendance tomorrow. McDonnell has been instructed to bring enough beer. Let's get out there at 6:00pm to warmup and practice our new skills.
Second, here are the videos from practice. http://www.youtube.com/user/deadcougar
(after the session)
(from Dan H) Scott! That was great… and incredibly helpful to me personally as a "newbie" to the game. With the lessons learned on Sunday and continued "guidance" from my teammates, my goal is to be more of a contributor to our future WINS! And Joe, thank you for your time, insight, guidance and risking your life for the betterment of "The Dead Cougars"!!
Dan H
(from Steve F) Ideally the guys that were not there on Sunday morning could get to the game early tomorrow for some pointers from Scott "Wannabe Joe" Radtke.
(from Scott) "That's why the old guys beat the younger teams." -Coach Joe addressing the team on Sunday morning. This quote really addresses the fact that playing a smart game is just as important (if not more important) as being athletic.
It was a productive session and we will give a refresher course to the folks that were not there. My favorite part was playing soft toss with the rain and lightning. I will send out the videos later today. Joe is copied on this email. I traded emails with Joe this morning and he wishes us luck on Tuesday and we need to let him know how it went.
I realize now that we should have had at least one example demonstrating the correct stance and swing. Next time we have Joe out with us we can put him in front of the camera.
(Joe's comments: As a testimonial to my teaching skills, the Dead Cougars enthusiatically went to their next game and got beat 10-0. Oh well. It turns out that this league has an unlimited arch pitching rule, and can be a very difficult pitch to hit. Although I did mention you should try to tomahawk such a pitch, I should have conducted an actual drill on this, and after I said so to Scott, they had their own practice for the high arch pitch).
About 9 guys came out to a practice on Saturday morning. Our pitcher threw for about 90 minutes while we had a competitive BP (teams of 2 against each other with fielders - hits were one point) as well as some regular BP. I told our pitcher that I wanted as high an arc as possible while still pitching strikes. I brought out a car mat that would be as big as the strike zone well and he had to hit that for it to be a strike.
As a result, here is more news from Scott... [my comments in brackets]
(July 1, 2008)
The Dead Cougars are alive! We did it -- we beat the Misfit Beavers 13-12. Now that was true Chicago 16-inch softball. Lots of runs, great plays, unreal hustle on the basepaths, jawing with the opponent, and a tension filled 7th. I have no idea where to begin. As Danielsen put it at the postgame, for most of our games, the discussion is about one good play we had, but after this game, there were more good plays than we could remember. Even the day after, it's still a blur. Should I begin with the fact that we scored more runs in one game than we have in the entire season? Or Lipsey lighting the fuse with a solid hit on the first pitch of the game and motoring around to score on Martin's hit? What about Martin switch hitting, doing his Brooks Robinson impersonation at 3B and setting the tone for a scrappy game by tagging up and somehow scoring on an infield pop out? Or Danielsen hitting a ground rule double to the opposite field? Or Bobis coming through with clutch hit after clutch hit? Or Melchoirre pitching a great game with sweet high arcs and helping his cause with an RBI single? Or Fortier's flawless shortstop play? Or how about Dr. Phil getting body slammed and coming back to get the final out? Or the ump calling their SS a fuc*ing a**hole (which he did midgame, and to which they responded, "That is the only call you made right all night!")? Or how about Julie being called a f'ing wh*re by their first baseman?
[my favorite part] Nope, none of that will suffice. The way to begin is to let you know that I woke up this morning after 5 hours of sleep, very sore, slight headache, dehydrated, rough throat, in my uniform, smelling of sweat, bug spray and beer, walked down the stairs and looked at our mantle over the fireplace and next to our wedding picture (taken 13 years ago today) and a crystal vase there sits the game ball and the cork to the bottle of champagne. Now that is a good feeling!
Our bats were alive. Everybody put a good swing on the ball. Right field, left field, hard grounders, line shots. I would venture to say that we did Joe D. proud last night. Our defense was stellar and almost flawless. The highlight of our defense was the fact that we made the correct throws every time and did not let them take the extra base. We even made a couple putouts at the bases, most notably when Lipsey gunned down a runner at third with Martin calmly applying the tag. Our baserunning was aggressive. We took the extra base at every chance, hustled and beat out what should have been routine outs and even had Hoglund doing the Cowboy Dance during a rundown. Speaking of baserunning, Phil looked like he hit a brick wall when their 400 pound first baseman put his shoulder into him as he was crossing first base and knocked him sideways. Although the Beavers had arms as big as sewer pipes hanging from their sides, I was ready to throw hands right there. Thankfully the ump kicked him out of the game, which gave him ample time to sit his ample a*s on the bench and plead with the park district guy that the ump sucks and all he did was lean in to catch the throw. He was really just an innocent victim, right? At which point, Julie couldn't hold her tongue and had to call, "That is such bull!" Then one of their girlfriends let the park district guy know that the ump shouldn't call their guy an a**hole. "Then they shouldn't act like a**holes!" is what came out of my little wife's mouth. "Shut up, fuc*ing whore," is apparently how their victimized first baseman responded to that. As she said after the game, you can take the girl out of the south side, but you can't take the south side out of the girl. Joe D. said to play angry and I guess that extends to the wives as well. This being the Dead Cougars going for their first win, of course, it wouldn't be easy. We entered the bottom of the 7th with a 13-6 lead. But the Beavers started finding the narrow gaps in our defense and came storming back to make it 13-12, putting runners on the corners with two outs. After Lipinski's brief discussion with the ump to figure out if the ejected Beaver's spot in the lineup had come up, their left handed power hitter hit a long drive down the right field line. In a turn that can only be considered poetic justice, Phil raced over to the line, camped under the ball and squeezed it to seal the victory. [my comment, I can only imagine the euphoria of getting their first win, it must have been a mob scene, I wish I could have seen that].
Melchiorre came through with a postgame fitting for the occasion. Beer on ice, pizzas fresh out of the oven and a perfect setting on the front porch. I was happy that I was able to pop open those bottles of Wilmette's finest bubbly and now won't be haunted by them every time I open my fridge [another one of my favorite imaginations]. As one Cougar put it, the beer tastes better after a win (to me, this indicates you guys have finally arrived). As another said, the Cougars are undefeated in July. And as Flannery put it [this is freakin priceless], "When you consider the euro, there are four distinct reasons for its increase in value, number one..." (No word on whether the Beavers were having a similar discussion at their postgame.) Huge props to Jen and Julie, our two fans (or witnesses as Greg called them). It was a great night and well-deserved for a great bunch of guys. I was grateful that Oxer was able to make it out on his daughter's birthday, and I wish Trout and my brother could have been there (although with their enthusiasm we may have spent the postgame behind bars), but hopefully this is the first in a long line of Cougar victories.
post game comments from various teammates:
What a great TEAM effort last night and some pretty amazing individual efforts as well!! I am a Dead Cougar with his head held high!!
Awesome...just awesome... " Then they shouldn't act like a**holes!" I love it!!!
It was a long drive back to Berwyn for the Frustrated Beavers.
Great narrative, Great team effort and a Great W!
The Captain modestly neglected to mention his stellar play in left field and dead strike to home plate from left.
That makes my day! Go Cougars! I know there will be plenty more wins! Way to put some spice into the game, Julie!
Julie, you are one tough chick...Scott, I see a future for you as a Sox announcer or sportswriter...great follow-up email.
Joe, even though it was a 90 minute lesson, your words and demonstration have really helped us. We have referred to it often. We need to set up another time for you to come out and provide more individual instruction to the group.
[my final comment - This most accurately captures the essence of Chicago style bare handed 16 inch softball. And Dead Cougars, your team chemistry is top notch, and that will certainly lead to more success in the future. Thank you for letting me enjoy your success, no charge for future sessions.]
Further reports from Wilmette:
Highlights of the next game (a loss that threw a scare into one of the top teams in the league):
Flannery sliding at home plate and falling short by about a foot for the last out of the game looking up at the ump and indicating he was safe. Tim also had a great unassisted double play.
· Our resident dentist getting picked off first was a beauty (that will cost you in kangaroo court next year). Phil showed off his range and great arm in the outfield – who knew? Phil is throwing his body everywhere and is hoping Brooks Brothers carries blood free pants so his knee doesn't soak through.
· Bobis played an excellent 2B featuring a line shot that tripled the size of his left nipple.
· As I was leaving the house for the train I heard some noise at the park and walked over. Trout was still there debating the ump about what constitutes the baseline (Trout was called out for running out of the baseline while approaching 2nd base from right field).
· Martin once again was a spark plug out of the box to get us on the board with an early lead.
· Danielsen hitting our team's first triple of the season. Also, it was great to have Kristen joining the Cougars postgame activity.
· I really enjoyed the 4 or 5 Radtke to Radtke putouts. Marc played a flawless 1B. BTW, Marc, the dog's name is Chase not Chuck.
· I did not enjoy getting my wind knocked out as I dove for a putout at 3B. I had the dirtiest shirt award until Flannery's headfirst slide.
· Lipsey with a pulled hammy covering tons of ground and showing off the accurate gun holstered to his shoulder.
· Otsuka also with great catches and throws and a featuring sweet throw for a putout at 3B.
· Oxer hustling out a great hit and throwing another top notch postgame. Jeremy is now the official 5 hour energy supplier (dealer, distributor, enabler - you choose the word). http://www.5hourenergy.com/
· Melchiorre getting compliments from Grandpa's on a great pitching performance. Although Dave would have like the umpire to share that same opinion.
· I think we have a following – lots of wives out there. Cougars dig Cougars! (Otsuka's coined phrase - he has already trademarked it and shirts will be on sale next game).
· We are gaining a following outside the Cougar family as well! We have neighbors, friends and other teams all rooting for us. It was great to have a Flynner join us for a nightcap and have him and Trouter share the leprechauns in Vegas story.
...and the following week...
With a victory we would move up a spot and be tied for 9th place. With a loss we might be basement dwellers once again. We have exactly 10 for the game tonight with the debut of The Joke Writer as our pitcher. Pete has been instructed to kiss the sky with his pitches, get high like Jimi Hendrix and put the Cheiftons in a green haze. One quick story. So I was drinking beers Friday night with some folks who live on Washington and back up to Howard Park. A certain woman says to me, "So, did you have the Cougars out for a practice on Sunday morning?" I said, "Yup, we got out there at about 7am and were out there for a couple hours." She said, "Yes, (pause) I know, you woke me up!" "Really," I said, "There were only five of us, I didn't think we were talking that loud." She said, "It was the bat hitting the ball that woke me up." That is just awesome! At first I figured she heard a hungover Trouter holding court in left field holding his Venti Iced Americano and catching balls with his non-injured hand, then I realized our sweet swings are waking up the neighborhood. That is beautiful.
"I Think The Cougars Are A Warm Weather Team"
- Greg Otsuka quote from after our April 29th opening day 35-1 loss in 40 degree weather.
After a bit of research, it turns out Greg is right. According to the Canadian government agency that collects cougar-related data, warm weather causes a jump in cougar attacks.
The warm weather last night fueled our 8-5 assault on our opponent and now fetches us a 3-1 record in July. We are also undefeated in position games and rematches.
Speaking of violence, according to the official scorebook Marc has officially not been present for our two victories. He decided to pull a Doug Plank on the second baseman early in the game on a force out and was promptly booted from the game by the umpire. After the game, Marc indicated that he thought it was perfectly fine to knock the defensive player silly because Jeremy did to the catcher on the Hitmen.
Unquestionably, the hero of the game was our man "Big Z" Lipsey. Pete brought out his "good Carlos" with a right arm that threw some lofty strikes, walking only one, and when we were down 5-3 with the bases loaded in the bottom of the 6th, he unloaded a shot to left center for a grand slam that put us ahead for good. It was absolutely unbelievable! One of the most exciting moments of the year!
Other offensive highlights include the following.
We were down 5-1 in the top of the 6th and before Lipsey nailed his granny (who ironically is a cougar, ahem), we had hits from Otsuka, Trout, McDonnell, Hoglund (with a reprise of the Cowboy Dance) and Oxer, which yielded us two runs to get us to 5-3.
It was Oxer's first run of the season. It would have been his second if it wasn't for the aforementioned play at the plate.
Also, in the 6th, we batted around the order for the first time this season. Danielsen led off the 6th with an out but came up again later in the inning with me on 1B and got a hit for our final run.
Our defense came through once again as the young, strong and quick Chieftons sprayed hard shots around the field.
Our outfield was flawless with Otsuka, Trout and McDonnell covering the green pasture with ease.
In CF, Trouter had a bullet throw to Marc at third that almost gunned out the runner.
Flannery was an all-purpose player while playing three positions.
I was fired up about my first double play of the season (well, first one on defense).
On the injury front, it looks like Trouter will be on the DL for at least next week. He pulled a groin (his own thankfully) during our big inning. What is very interesting is that Mike Flynn on the Hitmen, who is Trout's college roommate and current co-worker also has a pulled groin. Rumor has it that Bobis isn't the only one with an Open Stance video.
Jeff "Open Stance" Bobis, who was not supposed to show up, pulled an Oxer and rushed to make the postgame festivities after swilling a number of employer mandated beers. Little did he know he would be rushed into duty to make our then 9-person squad a full 10. He played a fine half inning and like the sick kid who shows up for last period, he kept his Ripken practice and game attendance streak alive.
The Cougar contingent was disappointed that a few of our pack were unable to attend.
Martin was on the high waters of Lake Michigan sailing in the 100th Race to Mackinac.
Fortier was transacting business in Tokyo where just moments ago he enjoyed a serious earthquake.
Melchiorre was enjoying a concert with a former Cougar and I think got to go backstage and meet John Mellencamp.
Lipinski was taking a client to dinner and did everything he could to get out of it.
We are not just the talk of the town now but of the whole North Shore. Not only did a woman stop me while walking my dog this morning to say congratulations (thanks, Kristen aka The Jokewriteress) but I also was at lunch at The Botanic Gardens and was stopped by a woman who said she was really excited (that's what she said) to hear about our win. So, news travels fast. I'm seriously thinking we need to market our own t-shirts, hats, and thongs (The Wide Stance Collection) to the masses before we let another get-rich-quick opportunity slip away.
For further news, visit http://deadcougars.blogspot.com/
After the season, I was invited to their postseason party (with a cougar "sfx" hiss). Unfortunately I could not attend since my daughter was visiting us from Seattle, so I felt I should at least try to give a worthy response...
Cougar Nation, thanks for inviting me to your postseason party, but I cannot attend, my daughter is visiting us from Seattle that weekend.
Nation, I gotta tell ya, it was fun reading about your adventures this year, especially the first win. I wish I could see a replay of the final out, it must have been quite a rush. This brought all the old clichés to mind: They are finally off the schneid, the monkey is off their back, the horse is out of the barn. (using the voice of NFL Films)... The monkey and horse were promptly devoured by a pack of hungry Cougars, once thought to be dead but clearly very much alive, and officially dangerous.
Those who have not met me yet may be wondering, who is this guy? OK I will tell you. I am a 61 year old little kid who never grew up and has no plans to do so any time soon.
My boyhood hero was Peter Pan because he never wanted to grow up either. Imagine what a blow it was to my manhood when I learned the part of Peter Pan was being played by a woman named Mary Martin. Jeff was that your granny? If so, tell her to watch out for Lipsey (ahem) (re: the Chieftons game).
...So is this guy supposed to be some know-it-all Guru? No, but at age 61 I have been around the block a few times, and in doing so, I have been able to observe a few things, and all I am trying to do is to pass on some of these observations on to you, so you don’t have to wait until you are 61 to figure them out all by yourself.
Now if I am supposed to act like a Guru, then I must give you a Mantra, or words to live by. This should be easy to remember, it is only two words. No, the second word is not You.
This Mantra is something I had previously mentioned to you, “NO GIFTS”. If an opponent is going to beat you, they will have to do that with no help from you. We will be working on minimizing the two types of gifts or errors, physical and mental. On the physical side, there are better ways to throw and catch this type of ball. We must especially minimize the mental errors because they are ALWAYS unnecessary gifts. Little things can change the momentum of a game. Strikeouts or foul-outs are gifts, so better to put the ball in play and give their defense a chance to mess it up. Aiming hits to where there might be easy force outs are gifts. Throwing the ball to the wrong place is a gift. Forgetting to back up a base if the ball is not hit to you may result in a gift if there is an overthrow. Letting a fly ball drop for fear of a collision is a gift.
The list of potential gifts goes on, but I challenge you to Absorb And Live This Mantra, make it part of your mindset. NO GIFTS. Well OK I will reluctantly make exceptions for Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, and other such events.
I still have more ways to make this Mantra sink in, so next spring if you want me to, I will travel once again to the land where Moses lost his shoes, and hopefully help you get to the next level.
In closing, I must confess, I really envy you guys because you have decades of good softball ahead of you, as opposed to guys my age who fear the current season might be their last. Heck we do not even bother buying green bananas anymore.
Anyway, I raise a glass and salute you for inviting me to be involved with people who really understand what Chicago style 16 inch softball is all about, ... attitude, pride, enthusiasm, camaraderie. You guys have got it all. God bless. SFX!
Joe D.
for their full story, see their blog from the bottom up, http://deadcougars.blogspot.com
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