...as they beat the bejesus out of your baseball team.
In a game that featured many webgem-like plays by the Dodgers, they fell to the Amazin's 9-0.
The score doesn't show it, but seriously, it was a defensive clinic.
Our first basemen, Raheem, who once tripped over the bag in grand Don-Knots fashion trying to make a routine put-out, had no less than 4 put-outs Wednesday, including catching a screaming line drive. Just to show off his new sure- footedness, he tagged first base anyway.
The Dodgers are nothing if not thorough.
I say this without any exaggeration:
If, in fact, a baseball was the size of Mr. Mets' head, the Dodgers would still find a way to miss striking it with a baseball bat. Look at him. He's daring you to take a swing. Lousy son of a ...
However, the morale has continued to improve. The Dodgers hustled on and off the field. They did not get down on themselves. They seemed to be playing baseball, and liking it. I'm a happy coach.
As much as I enjoyed the defensive prowess, what made my day was seeing the chipped-tooth grin of Marquise bounding towards the field in Dodger orange. We lost him due to an unpleasant incident with a mechanical pencil for one game, and was told by his mother that he would not be playing anymore because he was acting up in school.
When I told him I was glad to see his finger was better, and that he must be behaving since his mom was letting him play, he puffed out his chest and said "I'd play anyway. My mom don't tell me what to do."
He then looked over his shoulder, twice, to make sure she didn't hear him while she sat in the bleachers.
Saturday we take on the Braves. Pray the photo that accompanies that blog entry isn't the scalped head of some poor frontiersman.
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