Cubbies Feast on D-Boys

Saturday, there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

But there was one in my heart because I had to miss the D-Boys game against the Cubs, who just became a team this year.

Ok, so maybe "cloud in my heart" is a bit much. I mean, I was outside in the sun all day and by the time the game's first pitch was thrown I was 1/4 into my second 22 ounce Pabst Blue Ribbon.

But I don't like to miss games. They're fun, even ones that turn out to be 9-7 losses.

Coach D.G.'s text to me Saturday evening was frustrating. It read "Loss. We blew a 6run lead. I saw a whole lot of roll over and die."

This is the second game in a row that the Dodgers could have won--that the Dodgers were winning--that they let slip through their mustard covered fingers. (Why they think it's ok to eat in the middle of a game I'll never know) At least Wednesday they fought hard. D.G said Saturday that they just gave up.

And, they started giving each other a hard time about screwing up.

Mark my words: Everytime you give someone a hard time about sucking, you screw up yourself...or worse. The baseball gods do not screw around. They will teach you humility one way or another. I know from experience.

When I was in high school, a player who had graduated the year before came back to assist the team. His name was Steve...something or other.

Anyway, so at practice he was hitting fly balls to the outfield. I was at shorstop for some reason I cannot fathom instead of shagging fly balls.

He couldn't get the ball out of the infield, so I turned and faced left field and shouted, "Might as well move in. This yak-off can't hit balls that hard."

I turned back to home plate, laughing.

I never saw it coming, that line drive that hit me square in the balls.

I laid there in the dirt, screaming in agony and feeling my anxiety level rise as my teammates-- teenaged Catholic High School Boys-- gathered around me and chatted about how I would piss blood and have retarded children as a result of the ball-trauma. (Nice sex education, St. Clement's. Maybe this is why 3 girls in my class of 53 gave birth before graduation.)

And then Steve (what the hell is that kid's last name?) leaned over me, fungo bat still in his hand and said "So I can't hit balls that hard, huh? Seems like I drilled yours pretty good."

What was the point here? Oh yeah, show each other respect, D-Boys, and support each other instead of tearing each other down, or you will lose games...

...and will be afraid to pee for 2 days.

Tears Taint Loss to Cardinals

Last night, the D-Boys took on a mighty opponent, the Cardinals, and waged a noble battle.

However, when I texted the league commish at the end of the night, it said "10-7 Cards."

Damnit.

It was a great, great game with many highlights. "El Scaredo gatto" who is frightened of everything, caught a hard line drive in left field. "I am Nick Last-Name-Here!" caught a towering fly ball at first base that he had to back up for.

But the greatest of all was the one girl on our team, Lily, having the break-out game I knew was coming. She had two singles! Both hard line drives up the middle that passed the pitchers mound in the air, fell hard to the infield and rolled through the lame attempts of the infielders to make a play.

One of the hits gave her and RBI.

And on the basepaths you ask? I'll tell you.

She scored...
...by sliding under the catcher's tag! It was awesome!

Usually Lily gets pulled after starting the game, but after she got that first hit, there was no way I was taking her out. Turned out to be a good decision.

So what--on a day when the bats were hot and the defense was working--did the D-Boys in?

The tears of a clown, that's what.

Our starting pitcher hurled 3 scorless innings, but requested to only pitch 3 so he could be eligible to pitch for his school team. Since D.G. was tending to business, I was at the helm. The kid is soul-less and scares the hell out of both D.G. and I, so I agreed. Our relief pitcher threw a scoreless 4th, but then the wheels came off and I had to yank him and do the unthinkable.

I had to put in the throwing Slap-Nut Brother. Long story short, the D-Boys came into the top of the sixth with a two run lead. Slap-Nut walked a batter, made faces and pouted at the ump, and the ump responded by squeezing him.

Slap-Nut responded by crying.

And by giving up the lead through walks and hits--both batter hitting the ball and batter being hit by ball.

I had to got to the mound twice and be supportive. I really wanted to join those who were chuckling at him...which now included the umpire when he said "Um, (chuckle)better go check on your closer (chuckle)."

For those keeping score at home, this is the second time this kid has cried on the mound.

Although the rest of the D-Boys fought valiantly at the plate, we came up short.

I was really proud of their effort and teamwork. I was very happy with the game.

But it's always tough to lose a game not through team effort or heart or ability, but by mental toughness. We had that game. We didn't walk away with the win, but the Cardinals' coach congratulated me on a great game and a great team.

My heart broke for the D-Boys.

But I didn't cry.

I ain't no Slap-Nut.

D-Boys Make Last Inning Noise Against Braves

Riding the momentum of Thursday night's thumping of the Phillies, 14-2, The Dodgers won again on Saturday afternoon, beating the Braves 3-1.

I can't give you any details from the game. Unfortunatley, I wasn't able to make it, causing D.G. to manage the game without his trusty sounding board and third base coach.

And he did just fine, obviously.

But I can tell you this:
Saturday's win elevated the D-Boys to second place with a .667% win percentage. Tied for first right now are the Cardinals and the Mets, each with 3 wins and no losses.

The Mets are scary. You remember the hurting they gave us in the opener. The numbers tell the tale. They have scored 26 runs in their 3 games and have allowed opponents to score 3.

3!

I take solace in the fact that we have one of those...but allowing only 3 runs over the course of 3 games? Come on.

Next up is the Cardinals on Wednesday.

Victory!

After the crushing defeat handed to the D-Boys in our home opener against the Mets, D.G. and I didn't know what to expect when we got to the field for warmups last night.

Would the team be solemn? Would the team be out for vindication? Would the team be out on the field?

Yes.

The Dodgers, like pros, had put Saturday's big loss behind them and were eager to play. And, their effort yielded them a 14-2 victory over the brand-new-to-the-league Phillies.

It's Coach D.G. and I's first "w" since taking over the team.

Usually, we're the kind of guys who would plan ahead so that celebrating such an occasion would be celebrated properly with fine scotch, a Hemingway cigar and the finest meats in the land.

But, we didn't and the milestone was marked with buffalo wings, an order of "mini-tacos", and cheap mexican beer which we drank long into the night.

Willie, one of our players, was probably doing the same.

I guess we did celebrate properly afterall.

Highlights:

"E"--the kid nobody wanted last year on their team except for D.G. and I-- pitched a gem of a game. The Phils couldn't touch him. Those who could get the bat on the ball had their dreams of launching a comeback dashed by great defensive play. "E" also hit a towering home run to left field which electrified the crowd of literally tens of people and a shaggy dog.

Almost everybody got a hit today off the Phils, who started the game with a slow-ball hurling version of Satchel Paige...if Satchel was a wealthy, short, white kid. The kid had an old-school delivery which included a high leg kick and swinging his throwing arm wayyyyy back around his back.

Lowlights:

We had a cryer. Our relief pitcher, who is a Slap-Nut Brother was hot and cold on the mound. When D.G went out to calm him down by telling him to "Get his head out of his ass" he leveled out. Then he walked in a run because the bases were loaded. That's when the tears started flowing like, well, like cheap celebratory mexican beer.

French Save the Day

Can that possibly be right? Well, kinda.

On Saturday, the Dodgers pulled on their orange jerseys and bounded over the white chalk foul lines to start another baseball season.

By the time the game was over, they would have crawled under the foul lines if they could.

The season opener against the hated Mets was a loss, 12-1.

At least, I think it is. When I asked D.G. to confirm, he fingered his moustache and said "Twelve sounds high, but I stopped counting after the sixth run in the first."

Our starting and relief pitching was terrific, but our bats just never got hot-- despite a great showing in the batting cages before the game--and our defense was just plain lousy.

How lousy? It was saved by a Frenchman, that's how lousy.

Our starting first baseman--a returning player--was afraid of the ball. On the first putout attempt at first, he side-stepped a perfect throw by the pitcher, matador style, and weakly stuck his glove out to catch the ball. He missed, and the ball and our belief in his manliness sailed into foul territory. On the second putout attempt at first, he slapped at the ball and dropped it. On the next putout attempt at first, an out was recorded...because "El scaredo gatto" had been exiled to center field by D.G. and replaced by a first year kid, a frenchman (seriously, the kid's dad is from France) named Philipe who was magnificent. There were no errors at first for the rest of the game.

Who gets saved by the French? Well, this kid did and on top of that, he was so afraid of the ball at the plate that he actually threw the bat down and jumped out of the batter's box to get away from the ball...and it was a strike! Even the girl on our team who is very small took good swings at the plate but jusssssst missed connecting.

You know who loved the French? Ben Franklin that's who. So in honor of him I say you can't count on anything in life other than death, taxes...and the D-Boys having a new first baseman come our next game Thursday.

New Leadership Takes The Helm

Welcome to another exciting season of Dodgers baseball. The sun has been shining, the grass has become green and in two days the youth baseball season begins.

Last year, Coach D.G. and I coached the D-Boys along with a veteran coach to within a whisper of becoming Champions. We lost to a team that went undefeated all year.

Such is baseball.

But this year, D.G. and I are back, the veteran coach is not, and the destiny of the team lies firmly in our finger tips.

What lies on the D-Boys' fingertips was probably just plucked from their noses.

Such is youth baseball.

Depsite the crying, the complaining, the losing players to the DL due to mechanical pencils left haphazardly in their pockets, and other behavior covered under the umbrella of slap-nuttery, Coach D.G. and I look forward to coaching another year. When the team played well, or just seemed to have fun playing, we enjoyed coaching and the experience has given us many reasons to smile.

This year, we have some returning players, some who played last year in the minors, and just a few who have never played organized ball.

Will we bring home the big prize? Will we fail miserably? Will our catcher just want to go to Hooters either way?

Only one way to find out.

Play Ball.

Do you believe in miracles?

How bout one youth baseball team playing bad baseball , but slightly better than their opponent?

That, we got.

Despite many, many called third strikes at the plate, the D-Boys managed to best the Giants last night 8-7 in extra innings! The Giants gave up a lot of walks.

Our star pitcher continued his playoff role as a cryer, but last night, he was crying for his team to show heart and to keep battling. But he didn't just let his mouth do the talking. He pitched tremendous baseball and scored the winning run.

I'm happy for the win, but we were very lucky last night. We're a good little team when we have it together, but last night, we caught a break.

There were many base-running errors despite D.G. and I working with the team on nothing but running the day before. That is annoying.

But despite the win, and the overall entusiasm of the team, I finally saw a glimpse of "The parent" that everybody warned me about. You know, the one who mettles and screams and stuff.

It wasn't as bad as it could've been, but a parent pulled his kid away from a team pow-wow as Coach Mike was talking and said "I don't want you listening to them (coaches). You listen to me from now on..."

The kid went on to hit two batters in one inning.

Hey, whattayagonnado?

Tonight, the D-Boys go at it again, without the arm of our star pitcher, who has pitched as many innings as he is allowed this week according to the rule book.