Look to Your Laurels

You have to admire how the big stars of the 1970's did their best to hang on as the calendar changed into the 1980's and the culture evolved. I'm thinking of artists like Pat Benatar, Asia, James Earl Carter, Jr., ... Toto. They carried on as best they could with their sound but the new voices were dominating the scene - young Turks like The Alan Parsons Project, Human League and Dazz Band.

So it is in Wiffle as a new generation (for whom names like Cebulash, Mackintosh, Eldridge, Simpson, and even Mosser are nothing but grainy black and white images) are now trodding the asphalt at Nance Bradds Field and remaking the game in their image. These future legends, with their big-barreled black bats, and their artisanal sports drinks (no coffee and donuts for these whippersnappers) are transforming the game - and the stat sheets.

But some days, the veterans still have their way. Today a team made mostly of, shall we say, SEASONED wifflers took on a team made up mostly from... the new breed. And basically, the codgers had a day. And a half. Ten runs (all off the bat of Andy) on eighteen hits across an eight-inning pasting of the ingenues. 

So it can happen - even the Bee-Gees had a top 40 hit in 1989!! But it can't go on forever.

Adrian, Jeff, Mark M., Matt, Walker - 2 runs, 7 hits

Andy, Eric, Jim G., Pete, Zach - 10 runs, 18 hits

HR: Evans - 3 (7)

The Drama was Oedipal

Oedipus and Liaus. Luke and Anikin. Walker and Peter.

Oldest story in literature and wiffleball.

Bottom of the last inning, 2 outs, bases loaded, two strikes, home team down by just one run.

Well, I gave it away, so we know how it ends, but... how did we get here?

Jeff, of course, is how we got here. He led off the game with a solo shot and tripled home a second run in the fourth. At that moment his visiting squad of Jeff, Mark W., Mark M. and Walker was up 2-0.

The Homestanders (Peter B., Matt, and Zach) managed a run in the bottom of the fourth to halve the deficit. And that 2-1 margin held to the last inning.

In the top of that last inning, The Vizzies threatened to make it a laugher by loading the bases against Zach with none out. But Zach emerged from the inning unscathed and preserved the one run difference.

That left it to Walker B. to nail down the save. The home team did not roll over and make it easy.

Two outs, runner aboard, 2 strikes - Matt singled to keep the inning alive.

Two outs, 2 runners on, 2 strikes - Zach singled to load the bases.

Two outs, bases loaded, 2 strikes - Peter... 

[Well like all such stories, you know how this ends. The son KILLS the father.]

Walker got the game ending strike out on a shoulder high fastball, swing and a miss. Et tu, Brute?!

Jeff, Mark, Mark, Walker - 2 runs, 9 hits
Peter, Matt, Zach - 1 run, 11 hits

HR: Jeff (his 12th)

His Hunger Was Lupine

Dark is the blacktop, of NBF field

Bright are the foul lines, we're keepin' it real

Do do do do do do do dodo dododo dodo

Opposing batter, looking for tells

Expecting high heat, but offspeed's what sells

Do do do do do do do dodo dododo dodo

In touch with the ground(er)

I'm on the mound I'm after you

Bat like I smell, my stats are for hell

And I'm hungry like the wiff

Straddle the plate, but the pitching is great,

I'm on the schnide I'm after you

Ball off the wall, it makes you feel small

You're on the schide it's so insane

It trickles straight out, leaving no doubt,

He'll scoop it right up to end your pain

Do do do do do do do dodo dododo dodo

The pitch is way high but you flail and you miss

The dream's alive because you heard the ball hiss

Do do do do do do do dodo dododo dodo

In touch with the ground(er)

I'm on the mound I'm after you

A toss and a swing, a strkeout it brings

And I'm hungry like the wiff

Dragging your feet, return to your seat

You wish you had showered and used shampoo

The outfield is packed, all fly balls are tracked

And you're hungry like the wiff 

Devoid of all pride, you're empty inside

You're on the schnide they're after you

Offensively nill, your average's killed

And you're hungry like the wiff

Strutting his stuff, the pitcher's too tough

He's on the mound he's after you

His blazing ball speed, it leaves you knock-kneed

And you're hungry like the wiff

Your stance is unsound, your groove you've not found

He's on the mound he's after youuuuuuuuu...