Recreational Hit Fires Up Redemption Rally

Gary was the one who saved us.

Saved us from the dreary softball game we were losing interest in. Chasing balls into the other fields was dull. Lunging at grounders well out of our reach was tiresome. Defensively we were just about to give up.

Not that the offense was anything to write home about. Batters stepped up and then walked back to the bench. Strike outs, foul outs, pop outs, ground outs, broken up by the occasional walk. There were two stunning fly balls that looked like they might have sparked something interesting, but like the amazing selection at their retail stores, an amazing Target outfielder would slide below the hit, nab it in the final second, rolling once before jumping to his feet with the ball in his proud grasp. Amazing but dispiriting.

The game didn't start out like this. There was lots of enthusiasm early—we scored a couple of runs in the first inning. Stephanie Yager made a triumphant return and was warmly greeted by friend and foe alike. The Junior Latinist buoyed our spirits with his boyish charm and witty rejoinders, all fresh because this was his first game of the season. I remembered my own early season rush and allowed Stephanie's bright outlook to lighten my mid-season load.

But mid-game the mid-season blues descended upon the mid-market B-Squad. We slogged around the game feeling bloated and useless. A cloud of mosquitoes thick as fog rolled out of the woods and attacked our bench. Team Target continued to get hits and prance around the bases. The B-Squad slumped into a tremendously bad attitude.

And then Gary saved us. Saved this particular game and arguably put the season back on track. Gary provided a moment of redemption that was brilliant in it's simplicity, yet textured, complex and athletic. Gary set an example for the B-Squad, for his worthy opponents at Target, for the entire E-League of recreational softball.

It happened in the last inning, the one where the B-Squad was statistically eliminated. Gary and five other guys were going to have to get on base and score in order for the game to continue for the regulation 55 minutes. One guy had already had their chance to start the rally and failed. Gary stood tall and, considering the circumstances, quite confident that somehow the B-Squad would turn into a team that gets hits and scores runs.

Gary takes a swing and hits the ball, but instead of blasting it into the outfield, he chops it directly in front of home plate. The ball jumps high in the air, clearly in fair territory, though directionally towards first base. Gary seems surprised about this and for a long moment appears to be unsure of what to do next. The B-Squad bench yells “Run! Run!” so Gary takes off but the ball is in his way, so he ducks UNDER the ball.

It was more like a Marine under fire, a crouch-run to the bunker to avoid getting hit by the incoming fire. Unfortunately, the ball wasn't hit very high so while Gary got under it, it landed right on his back. Caught up in the thrill of the play, Gary continued to advance towards first, but the Umpire called the play: “OUT!” Gary was hit by his own ball and, apparently there are “rules” against this sort of thing.

The B-Squad bench went wild in genuine appreciation of the effort.

We had witnessed a true moment of recreational sports—a play so strange that even the umpire admitted he had never seen anything like that. Gary had risked his own well-being in order to provide a base runner, a possible run, and as it turned out, the comic spark that fired the B-Squad engine. Gary demonstrated grit, determination, and a reminder that softball is at it's core a ridiculous game that should be played with a sense of humor.

Another guy got out. But we weren't done. We demanded another inning and the Targets agreed. The umpire was pressed for further service and the game, as they say, was on.

A newly inspired B-Squad came out loose and silly for their last stand. The Targeters fell in order on tall fly balls that were easily caught by a newly energized Zin-centric outfield. The men jogged off the field with an offensive mission. We would score dozens of runs. We would win this game. We asked for and received agreement that the six run rule would be suspended for the B-Squad's last trip to the plate.

What a glorious trip it was. I personally got a hit which felt like being baptized after a ten month crystal meth bender. I was redeemed from the tiny and polite fly ball in the third inning and proudly took my place on the bag at first as a new man.

Following me was Stephanie who almost walked but then used better judgment and got a nice dinger to advance the runners. There were other hits and then Malibar hit his government issue smash-mouth triple, scoring runners left and right. The bench and B-Squad faithful were cheering like they had won the Stanley Cup. Every runner that crossed the plate was hugged and applauded and slapped on the back until he could barely breathe. It was glorious.

The rally came to end, but not until we had scored five runs and made our point. Softball is silly. Softball is recreational. But most of all softball games are won by the happiest team. Which, as we hoisted our Guardian Angel Gary to our shoulders and headed for the bar, we certainly were.

Cape Cod: Mr. Redemption walks away with cape honors this week. Congratulations Gary!