DOMESTIC BEER INSPIRES GREAT PERFORMANCE

Things didn't look so good for Charles when he first appeared on the edge of the field, carrying his bag and looking alone. His arrival was anticipated by the B-Squad since he earned the honor of bringing beer to the ball park by committing the final out of the prior game.

Oh, sweet beer. And made so much the sweeter when consumed on a bright day in the out of doors among friends. Wash away any residual workday shame from the screaming boss (What do you mean no one in the world will sell us steel?) with the cold and delicious beverage. Refresh yourself with this kind ritual made all the more pleasant because it is not really legal but generally accepted.

Beer before the game is the reward of Wednesday and it has been denied to the B-Squad for many weeks. Mike Black was responsible one week but didn't show up for the game. The next week we continued to blame Mike, but mostly because he missed that game as well. After three or four weeks of blaming Mike, we settled on trying to remember who was really responsible for beer. Last week Charles ended the game and vowed he would break the streak: he would bring beer the next week.

Before he arrived his commitment was rehashed among the early arriving and thirsty men. Zin cast fear into the crowd—he had talked to Charles earlier that day and forgot to remind him! Plus, Charles didn't bring it up! Plus, it was noted that Charles may not have been on the email chain that raged all afternoon about beer. Highlights from that exchange when the question who will bring beer was asked:

It's the Revenge of Chucky.
Chas.
Chuck-Chuck.
Charlie and his Chocolate.
Chuck D.
King Charles the First.
Chuckles
chuck e. cheese
charlie hustle
The Chucker
Chuck N. Jive
Charlie's Anglo
Chas the Spaz
C.H.U.C.K. (Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Cohabitating Krackas)
Charles in Charge of my days AND my nights
Beerchucker jones
chuck schwab
charlie dickens
chuckles de gaulle

Seeing no response to this massive slander of his good name, Doug summed up our fears: "G's: What tha dilly yo? Since I peep no ref'rence to C-Dawg in tha e-mail chain, I say we be takin' chances if we 'spectin to be guzzlin' foam befo tha game." It seemed possible, even probable that Charles would arrive beverage-free.

Then Charles turned the corner and he wasn't carrying a case of beer. He had a simple duffel bag that would carry his glove, a spare ball and maybe some shoes. It would be too strong to say that panic broke out, maybe it was more like panic bubbled around the edges.

This was unnecessary. Charles had plenty of cold Grain Belt Premium in his bag—enough for everyone to have a cold beer before and maybe even after the game. There was much rejoicing, but Charles didn't seem to be enjoying the moment. He pulled me aside, “Bricker,” he said, “I've lost my glove.”

Good fortune smiles on the bringer-of-beer. Charles' glove was lost, but then it was found by the Wells Fargo “Bomers,” our worthy and friendly softball opponents for the evening. They awarded Charles with his glove, as well as Bricker's glove and Dave-O's Iowa Hawkeye (tm) Marching Band pullover. These Bomers are good guys, they carry your shit around if you are too forgetful or lazy to pick up after yourselves.

Now don't think we were going to go soft on the Bankers. No sir. For one thing, they were drinking premium beer before the game. Charles was so excited about getting his glove back that he actually offered the guy a beer, but then noticed that he was holding a tall Guinness and had no need for the pedestrian Grain Belt that was gifted to him.

The difference in beers turned out to be the difference in play. B-Squad played gritty street ball, beating out every ground ball and stretching out their singles to doubles, their doubles to triples and one time even a Marty Owens thrilling play-at-the-plate home run. The Bomers hit towering fly balls that dropped just in front or right behind our scrappy defense. They had cool two-out-rallies that were as coordinated as the coaster, iced mug and deftly poured beer that has it's own internal carbonation mechanism. The B-Squad had a mascot (chip-o-brick shown below with Marty), the Bomers had lawn chairs. You get the idea.

The Bomers were doing pretty well, but I bet they wished they hadn't given Charles his glove. He was a defensive machine: snapping up the grounders, knocking down the line drives, pushing every single play to the maximum short stop volume. One time he kicked the ball with his foot, flipped it to his extended hand and tossed it to second to get the runner out. Chuckie was mad in love, if you know what I mean.

In the end the statistical victory went to the Bomers. But the true victor that night was Charles and when the Cape votes were tallied it was obvious. However, I'm not sure that a single voter had imagined how touched the recipient of our weekly honor would be. He literally glowed there in the dark and smoky tables of Dusty's bar. He was as happy as a four-year-old at his birthday: “another present for me?” He preened. He posed. But most importantly, he played a great softball game and he brought beer.

Congratulations Charles!

Who is bringing beer next week?