We move to Part 2 of the story….
Three weeks later, I’m back at it with The Gothams – damaged pinky and all. We’re in Delaware City, Delaware, competing in the vintage ball playoffs.
Earlier in the week, I told The Gothams’ captain that I wasn’t worthy of a playoff roster spot. Basically, he told me to shut up and play. I’m grateful that he pushed me, but now I’m anxious.
Catching line drives with no glove is unnerving – and then there’s the “muffin” moniker. As far as that goes, I’m partly to blame. When they asked me for my nickname, I offered up “Plimpton,” which The Gothams didn’t go for. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with muffin. More bothersome than my muffin moniker is my .000 batting average. I really want to get a hit, so in the days leading up to the game, I practice hitting a wiffle ball.
In Delaware, we’re playing on a retired Navy base’s quad. In our first-round game, a team from Maryland is playing us tough. When I get to the plate, we need a hit to keep a rally alive. Instead of giving myself my usual pep talk, I shut up and just hit.
And I do!
Photo courtesy Patriot Ledger
I bang a hard liner to right field. No doubt, it’s gonna drop. But is it gonna drop enough? In vintage baseball, catching a ball on one bounce is an out. As I hustle hard up the line, I watch the ball.
It bounces once, and then the right fielder dives for it. He has it. …then he doesn’t. It bounces again.
I got a hit! I got a hit!
I arrive at first base. I’m euphoric, but don’t let my emotions get the best of me. I stop immediately. I didn’t get a home run.
However, more importantly, I lost the muffin moniker.
We wind up blowing a lead and the game. Then, we get blown out in the second game, which eliminates us from the playoffs.
This former muffin is toasted.
______________________
Jon Hart is the author of Unfortunately, I was available, the undeserved sequel to Man versus Ball: One Ordinary Guy and His Extraordinary Sports Adventures.
