The wind was blowing in during warmups, a soft breeze that became stronger throughout the day. I felt good in BP: good, but a little slow. It’s hard to ascribe a decade of aging to six months, but I’m unquestionably slower- both hands and legs- than when I started the season. I’m not turning on […]
The wind was blowing in during warmups, a soft breeze that became stronger throughout the day. I felt good in BP: good, but a little slow. It’s hard to ascribe a decade of aging to six months, but I’m unquestionably slower- both hands and legs- than when I started the season. I’m not turning on fastballs as well, and I’m a half step slower to first base, and down the path to second. It’s sad to think that all my hard work with Velocity has slowly started to fritter away, but I guess it’s no surprise. Part of it is being seven months removed from that physical peak, with three months of vacation and law school in between; part of it is (gasp) just getting old. One of the guys even commented on it, as I ran back to the dugout after grounding out to the left side to lead off the bottom half of the first. Hey, thanks.
We fell behind 2-0 when Quentin struggled with his command, but quickly knocked their starter out of the game in the third to take a 3-2 lead. Q had asked to start the first game; it was nice to see that kind of confidence out of him. Any coach, at any level, always loves to have a guy asking for the ball. Probably just another sign of him growing a little older during the season too, albeit at a point in his life where unlike me, his best days in baseball are still to come.
In the fourth, we tacked on a few more in a rally where I pulled a ground ball past a diving shortstop, swiped second, and scored on a single to center. I led off the sixth against their reliever just as the sun started to poke through the Normandy clouds, and I finally- FINALLY – got into one. It was the hitter’s dream, the proverbial cup-high fastball on the sweet spot of the bat (Pugno Ergo Sum, a gift from my buddy Chuck.) The ball took off like a rocket over the centerfielder’s head, one-hopping the fence. The centerfielder was just picking it up as I rounded second, and I coasted into third with a standup triple. It was easily one of my hardest hit balls in France, along with the rocket I hit off Pierrick in the Savigny intrasquad. In retrospect, that’s indicative of a disappointing power outage on my part this season, but there’s not much I can do about it at this point.
We batted around in the sixth, extending our lead to 11-2, tantalizingly close to the ten-run rule that has victimized us so often this year. Put it this way; if France’s ten-run slaughter rule were child molestation charges, the Woodchucks would be Michael Jackson. We’ve run afoul of that particular rule so many times that I don’t even like to think about it. And then, for once, we were just inches away from being on the right side of it.
When you’ve had the run of luck we’ve had, you don’t mess around when victory is in sight. Matt put himself in the game to replace Quentin, who had thrown over 100 pitches, and he ruthlessly mowed down the Meds hitters, striking out the side on just ten more. It really showed the difference between the elite division and the N1A division in France. Simply put, they weren’t even on his level. They might as well have been facing Randy Johnson.
I again led off the seventh, knowing full well that we needed but one run to close out the game. Now, I’ve seen more interviews than I can count with a hitter who has hit a walkoff home run where he’s claimed that he was just trying to make contact, to put a good swing on it, and often it’s patently false. I recall one time in particular when Orlando Cabrera hit a walkoff jack during his brief but glorious tenure with the Red Sox, when he claimed in his thick Venezuelan accent “I was joos try-eeng to poot eet een play,” which was hilarious because he nearly came out of his shoes on the swing before his walkoff. So in that spirit, I will admit honestly that I was trying to crank one out of the park to lead off the seventh.
I flew out to left center. Maybe I just shood haf tried to poot eet een play.
Fortunately, Seb walked behind me, and Matthieu doubled into the right center gap to score him, and Woodchucks were victorious for the second straight game. Cynics might be tempted to point out that it was our longest win streak of the year. I might be tempted to stuff said critics in the garbage can.
Tomorrow: The Woodchucks’ Kryptonite: Extra Innings!