Black Saturday - in more ways than one

Gentlemen,

I have, myself, full confidence that if all do their duty, if nothing is neglected, and if the best arrangements are made, as they are being made, we shall prove ourselves once again able to defend our Oakwood game, to ride out the storms of winter, and to outlive the menace of the off season, if necessary for months, if necessary alone.

At any rate, that is what we are going to try to do. That is the resolve of the Commissioner's office. That is the will of the players and the league.

The Oakwood Wiffle and Ale Club and indeed, all free wifflers everywhere, linked together in their cause and in their need, will defend to the death, or the end of nine innings, whichever comes first, their asphalt,  aiding each other like good comrades to the utmost of their strength.

Even though many a Saturday has fallen into the grip of family obligation or the ill-scheduled OCC basketball tournament, we shall not flag or fail.

We shall go on to the end, we shall play in Kettering, we shall play in Beavercreek, we shall play in Riverside, if necessary; we shall pitch and hit with growing confidence and growing strength, we shall defend our park, whatever the cost may be, we shall play on the macadam, we shall play on the grass, we shall play on the fields and in the streets, we shall play in the hills; we shall never quit, and even if, which I do not for a moment believe, this game or a large part of it were re-scheduled or undermanned, then our game beyond the Miami Valley, suited and seated by able wifflers, would carry on the struggle, until, in God's good time, a new game, with all its power and might, steps forth to the rescue and the liberation of the old.


The Wifflers played A LOT of wiffle these past two days. Two more today. Matt stunk, completely (well deserved after the fit of hubris from the last blog entry). Glen and Kurt, on opposite teams each produced four runs. The difference was Peter, with two additional RBI putting Kurt and He on top in game 1.  Did I mention that Matt was awful? 1 for 12, though he pitched "ok".


After that was over, mercifully, Dave had the brilliant idea that we should play another, this time everyone having to pitch underhand. Dave's idea. Remember that. 


Dave surrendered 19 runs in the top of the first.  This lead proved insurmountable, believe it or not. Matt didn't do much hitting off the underhand stuff, either, though he pitched "ok." This one ended 31-8, which is a ridiculous score. There were multiple grand slams by the winners, and Kurt was struck out looking by Matt. Underhand. It was a crazy pitch. You had to be there.


Here are some nice pictures:

Game 3

Game 4

The whole enchilada.

Congrats to Kurt for being onthe winning team four times. Sincere congratulations.

Black Friday DOUBLE HEADER

Yes, you read that headline right. We, the men of Oakwood Wiffle and Ale played not 1, not 3, but TWO games today. Hu-ah!! Bestriding the asphalt from 9:30 until 13:10, grappling with a low, strong sun through two six-inning games, we are better and bigger for the experience. And we've got the experimental scoresheet to prove it:

And more than one of us will be feeling it tomorrow morning. IBUPROFEN!!

Glen laid down the verbal gauntlet before game 1, insisting that any combination of players would beat the teaming of Kurt and Dave. The Commish disallowed a 4-on-2 game and placed Brent on the side with the fireballers.

Close until the closing innings, this 4-1 contest was won by the side that Glen guaranteed would lose. Dave alone had enough RBI to win this one, while hitting for the cycle. Stats is largely responsible for this cycle; he dropped the triple, which he lost in the sun (sorry, Peter), and he pitched the homer ball, which Dave absolutely crushed. As can be seen in the tallies, the winners were largely able to pitch around Glen's two extra base hits, which is surprisingly under-productive for a batter getting underhand pitches. (Glen would exact his pond of flesh in game two, however.)

Dave pitched great (lost count of the Beltrans) and made one of two noteworthy catches - a full sprint into foul territory to catch a foul pop. The other was a nifty snag by Glen in the doorway of a line drive stung by Kurt. Much leather was flashed when it wasn't popped into the sun.

Glen, Matt, Peter - 1 run, 15 hits
Brent, Dave, Kurt - 4 runs, 15 hits

After the first game, with the temps getting very comfortable, four of the six decided, "Shoulders be damned, we can play another RIGHT NOW."  And so we did.

A much more offensive game, which featured a difficult sun. See below what the batters saw as they faced Dave for instance:

Note that Dave is in the sun, but the ball disappears into the shadows. Balls hit with any loft were no fun to catch, neither. Well, the game was over before the shoulders got sore anyway, as Peter, pitchin' like Commissioner Bud Selig, allowed 8 runs in the first, and Glen, pitchin' like my grandmother, allowed 8 more in the second. Dave returned from Black Friday shopping to pitch a scoreless third, and then the scoring took off again.  In the end, Matt and Kurt tallied 19 runs on 29 hits. Matt had a particularly fine set of figures for the full day: 20-for-33, 3 doubles, 2 triples and 12 RBI.

Glen was able to make it interesting with his bat. He smacked three 3-run homers in the second game (all off Kurt!), and had another (solo) shot caught well beyond the homer line.

Kurt, Matt - 19 Runs, 29 Hits
Glen, Peter, Dave - 9 runs, 14 hits

Congrats to Kurt for being on the winning side in both ends of the twin-bill.

Shoulders need their rest as we are determined to play again tomorrow morning.  Here's your chance to finally hit off some really tired arms. Come on out for a game at 9:30 am.

Game Sans Pizza

Vanity, thy name is Cebulash.  Get him to a nunnery.

This is the Way the Season Ends

While many of you were bird-doggin' chicks and bangin' beaver, or bearing witness to the bar mitzvah of your boy, or beatin' out that rhythm on a bongo, the real boys of the base-paths were blastin' balls out of the Bradds and bearing witness to the end of another bucolic season.    In honor of the end of the season I've composed a little ditty (with apologies to T.S.E. and everyone else): 

THE WIFFLE MEN

Mistuh Kurt - he dead.

I.

We are the wiffle men
We are the summer men
Leaning together
Caps filled not with hair, but with flesh
Our lyric voices, now dry,
When we speak together,
Are weak and lifeless
As wind across dry asphalt
Or squirrels feet over basalt
In our dry cellar

Pitch without form, bat without colour,
Arthritc force, gesture without motion;

Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to the season's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost
listless players, but only
As the wiffle men
The summer men.


II

Stats I dare not meet in dreams
In the season's dream kingdom
These do not appear:
There, the stats are
Sunlight on a cracked field
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind's singing
More distant and more solemn
Than a fading bloop single.

Let me be no nearer
In the season's dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Capri pants, soiled sweatshirts
On a field
Behaving as the wind behaves
No nearer --


III.

The rest of the players are not here
There are no players here
In this valley of dying days
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost season

On this last day
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this field of the tumid school


IV

Here we go round the chalk lines
The Chalk lines, the chalk lines
Here we go round the chalk lines
At nine o'clock in the morning


V

Between the lawn chair
And the batter's box
Between the pitch
And the swing
Falls the Shadow

For this is the end of the season

This is the way the season ends
This is the way the season ends
This is the way the season ends
Not with a whimper, but with twenty-three runs from the artist

Theorizing

Brent Mackintosh, future Italian citizen, deftly organized a Thursday Theory at Tanks this week. Seven folks showed up, including the likes of Matt, Peter, Tim, Glen, Republican Dave and Nurse Chris. Kurt, who was taken ill, missed maybe his second theory of the year.

(After a general round of well wishing on Kurt's behalf, the assembled wifflers preceded to make him the butt of many jokes and laughs. We never toasted his beloved Cardinals, either.)

There were multiple pitchers of Yuengling shared by all (except for.. Chris, who insisted on Sam Adams). May I say at this point, I do not understand how you folks can take in that much beer? My half mug had my stomach in knots the rest of the night.

And there was good discussion of ways to make the stats reflect one's Theory attendance. The stats should measure the things we value, and The Oakwood Wiffle and Ale Club values Theory attendance. Can't we find a way to factor that into your batting average? There were also good suggestions from Peter and Glen, who insisted it was his idea in the first place.

Note that Brent is not fully in the picture, here. This is because he was intermittently dealing with the Tank's crack staff scheduling....

The Wiffies!!!! 

Yes, mark your calendars for the 4th Annual Wiffie Banquet: January 13, 2012.  

Special guests scheduled to appear... don't miss it!!!