I was hoping to have a bunch of photos to share from this event, but kT’s compact flash card isn’t working properly. If in fact I receive any photos, they’ll be linked to from here. Also, I’m going to tag all of these posts as “baseball,” so if you want to follow our season, just click the baseball link on the right sidebar.
On Thursday May 28th, Los Nueovs Expos competed in their first game of the Men’s summer softball league. The team consists of Pat, Nate, Pete, a bunch of people I don’t know, and myself. I know what you’re saying right now: Evan, you don’t play competitive sports! So true! And for good reason, too. I was always getting stressed out or injured as a child whenever I played sports. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be excellent, and I was merely a good athlete when I was younger. I stopped playing baseball in middle school, when kids started actually pitching well. I tried out for basketball once in high school, and decided to treat it as a joke in order to conceal my weaknesses as a “baller”. I also played tennis for years, but refused to enter tournaments or apply myself to tryouts for the high school team because it wasn’t fun, just nerve-wracking. At one point I had a personal trainer, two coaches and spent 5 days a week in some form of tennis training. Yet I never actually played competitively. It was just a really fun hobby.
So, to put all that in perspective, I haven’t played an actual competitive sport since middle school. Which made me incredibly nervous for last Thursday’s softball game. We arrived at the field as the previous game was ending, and Nate and I went into the bullpen area to practice his pitching. As Pat laced up his cleats, I said, “Wow, you people really get into this thing.” Pat’s reply was something to the extent of, “Dude, softball is amazing, you need cleats. You’ll see…” Oh, if only I had precognitive abilities!
Our team, Los Nuevos Expos, took the field against The Tribe Of Judah promptly at 8:45pm. I was stationed in right field. The first batter of the game was a lefty, so I readied myself for a ball hit in my direction. My luck is such that whenever I’m in a potentially embarrassing or uncomfortable situation, my resolve is tested immediately. To no one’s surprise, the batter hit a ball to right field that landed in front of me by 10 or 15 feet. I scooped it up and, upon hearing the second baseman calling “Cut off! Cut off!” wildly threw the ball in his direction. He fielded it on a bounce even though he was only a few feet in front of me. The runner was held to a single. Two batters later, I was tested again as the opposing team’s best hitter (also their pitcher) lined a ball in the gap between the centerfielder and I. I scooped the ball off the warning track and made a good throw to the 2nd basemen, but the runners had already crossed the plate. I think we were down 2-0 or 4-0 at the end of the first inning.
The next couple innings were largely uninteresting. Los Expos scored some runs and we went back-and-forth with the Tribe of Judah. My first two at-bats ended in outs. I hit the first ball I saw in my first at-bat on the ground between the pitcher and shortstop, and the pitcher cleanly fielded the ball and threw me out. In my second at-bat, I hit the ball to the shortstop, who forced out Nate at 2nd base to end whatever inning that was. In the fourth inning I assumed catching duties so one of the other men on our team could patrol right field. Considering only one other ball was hit to me (it landed well in front of me, no play on that one) I don’t think it had anything to do with my fielding skills.
In that inning, Pat almost made an amazing play at third base. A foul ball hit in his direction was hooking towards the large fence surrounding the field of play. Pat, never taking his eye off the ball, made an amazing effort as he scaled the fence and reached out his glove to make a potentially amazing catch. The ball fell into his glove, but as he closed his glove around it, the force of his body still moving upward on the fence pushed the ball out of his hands and over the fence into foul territory. Everyone on the field bemoaned his poor luck. Nate struck out a batter with the bases loaded, in what was definitely one of the most important defensive outs of the game. We held the Tribe Of Judah scoreless that inning, but they were clinging to a 10-6 lead.
In the bottom of the fourth inning, Los Nuevos Expos took over. We scored four runs to tie the game. Pat hit a homerun. Nate singled to load the bases for me. The game was tied at 10-10. I nervously approached the plate. I swung and missed at the first pitch. I did not want to strike out in that position. I smacked the next pitch I saw back up the middle for a single. Two runs scored and we took the lead.
I excitedly stood on first base, feeling as if I finally belonged somewhere. It was like all the hard luck and poor athleticism of the last 26 years of my life were wiped away, and I could begin anew as an athlete with a clean slate. And, not 30 seconds later, I did one of the dumbest, most-retarded things ever. The next batter hit a ball into the gap in left-center field. I ran towards second. I looked at Pat, my third base coach, and he waved me on to third base. As I was rounding second, I caught my toe on the bag and took a spill. I tumbled, fell to the ground, and rolled over twice. Without thinking, I stood up and continued running. As I approached third, I began to slow up, assuming the play was about over. Pat told me to run home. Having to change gears, I rounded third base — almost falling again in the process — and broke for the plate. I heard someone yell, “Slide!” and I unconsciously followed that order. I believe I made it in safely beneath the catcher’s tag, but I was called out anyway. The inning was over, and we were ahead 13-10. That’s when I noticed that my big toe on my left foot was fucking killing me.
It throbbed for the next two innings. In the fifth, the Judah’s pitcher hit a homerun that cleared the wall in right field. I was glad to be catching at that moment, as I probably wouldn’t have been able to pursue the ball at all, I was in that much pain. In the bottom of the fifth, we poured on 8 more runs to take a 21-11 lead. It actually looked as if we were going to win the game. I struck out in the inning, which is totally embarrassing, but I wasn’t the first person on our team to go down swinging so I didn’t feel too bad about it. Plus, running wasn’t really an option at that point, even if I had hit the ball.
Nate was lights out in the 6th inning. As the umpire and scorekeeper called “swish” or “air ball” on every pitch Nate threw that inning (he was wearing a Boston Celtics t-shirt), I remarked that he was our teams ace as well as our lights-out closer. He lived up to his role as he shut-out the Judahs in the last half-inning, striking out the final batter to cement our 21-11 victory. By his own admission, it was the best game Nate’s ever pitched.
Nate finished 3/4 with 3 singles and 2 runs. He also grounded into a double play. As pitcher, he threw a complete game walking three and striking out three. Pat played a stellar third base, and went 3-5 with a homerun and two doubles and 4 RBIs. I was 1-4 with 2 RBIs, a strikeout, and one embarrassing baserunning error.
After the game, walking back to Pat’s car, feeling the rush of victory, I noticed that my toe was making a weird “pop” sound with every step I took. I began to fear that maybe I had separated it or broken it. When I got home, and was able to remove my shoe, it looked something like this:
Pat and Nate thought I was just playing gimpy when they saw me the next day, but I assured them I was actually in quite a bit of pain. I went so far as to look up the differences between bruised and broken toes on the Internet, as the pain that next day was pretty constant. I limped into and around work. I limped home. I limped to the William Fowler Collins/Brightblack Morning Light concert. The following morning (Saturday morning), I awoke and found my toe looking like this:
It has been almost a week now. The pain has subsided. I didn’t need anything to numb the toe or take my mind off of it, though the desire to consume many, many painkillers was constant. The swelling started to go down on Sunday, but the color has just begun to fade. I haven’t felt the need to photograph my injury since day 3, when I started to feel like I could wiggle and slightly bend the toe. Our next game is tomorrow night, and I hope to be ready to play. I’m still walking with a little bit of a limp, but maybe I can just wrap something around my foot to keep the toe firmly in place, which will enable me to run if I hit the ball. I also hope to be catching again, as I wouldn’t want to have to run after any balls and tweak my injury. Either way, I’m going to continue writing softball recaps for the remainder of the season. If for some reason I go a day or two without posting a new blog entry, I probably fell running around the bases and broke my neck and died. Los Nuevos Expos! 1-0! Undefeated!
Assemble Head In Sunburst Sound – Drunken Leaves
Cluster – Helle Melange
Silver Apples – Program
Juan De La Cruz – Himing Nation
