Shyzer.com

Well folks, the Shyzer’s season is officially over. Last night was our first (and only) playoff game, as we were squared up against the team Alpha Tau Omega (very original name) and….well let’s just say it was damn fun.

I honestly had no idea how we were gonna get enough people to play. The rules were that you had to have at least 8 people and 3 of them had to be girls. After calling all the girls I knew here at school and asking around in all my classes, I was only able to come up with 2, which was pissing me off. I heard “It’s gonna be too cold” far too many times and I wanted to strangle somebody, but I knew that if I didn’t find this elusive third girl, we’d be going home early. I had swore I’d get a third girl, so I did what any person in my situation would be forced to do. Grab the phone directory and start calling. On my fifth call, I talked to a girl named Courtney who said she’d come play for us. I had expected to make at least 50 calls before I found somebody, so go figure. Excited wouldn’t even come close to how I felt when I heard her say she’d come play. I was on a whole new level, cloud 9 if you will. After making somewhere around 30 total phone calls and IMs, I finally had the count up to 8 people. We were gonna live on for at least one more game…

The game was at 9, so I was at the field around 8:30. Now, before I headed out, I stepped outside to find that it was what we down here in the South like to call “un-fucking-believably” cold. I knew I couldn’t play in my regular Mariners shirt and shorts, so I went into my closet and pulled out two priceless gems. The first being a pair of knee-high socks that I didn’t even know I owned and the second being a long sleeve, turtleneck Mariners undershirt that the pros wear when it’s cold. Retro and Mariners: it doesn’t get much better then that. I took some pictures, both on Fellner’s camera and my own, so expect some of me in my softball uniform and of the team once I develop the film.

When I got to the field around 8:30, I met Courtney and started tossing with her. Fellner and Phil were right behind me, but that was it…Game time rolled around and we still only had 4 people out there and I was pissed. As Fellner put it “Dude, I thought you were gonna blow a fuse out there.” I mean, I had JUST TALKED to everybody and I had a confirmed 8 people showing up. And now I only had 4 people on the field? What’s up with that?! Three minutes before I was forced to sign the sheet saying we forfeited, the other 4 people came strolling up and we took to the field. Now, let me just say this. Our team was composed of 6 people who had never played baseball before. (I refuse to say softball…it’s NOT the same thing, but whatever). This was a rag-tag team from the start that had been thrown together all season and even though everybody on the field had been practicing with me since late September, 2 months of practicing twice a week for an hour and a half just isn’t enough time to teach everybody everything. Our catcher had “never played ball sports” in his entire life, our right fielder had never been able to catch fly balls, and our short stop was non-existent. We never knew who the hell was going to be playing there.

But I honestly didn’t care at all. All I cared about was that feeling you get as you run into center field. It’s one of the best natural highs you’ll ever experience. I love sprinting out there. I love commanding the outfield. I love that feeling of wanting the ball hit to you. I love making catches that you shouldn’t make and I love watching the hitter walk back to the dugout shaking his head. To top it off, this field was actually a pretty good sized patch of grass. It wasn’t your average namby-pamby little league field. So knowing that we only had enough for 3 outfielders and that I would be roaming even more territory, knowing that I had more and more area to patrol…well, it just felt awesome.

The first inning was…rough. Yeah, rough would be a good way to describe it. I don’t quite remember how, but we quickly went down 11-0 without making an out and I had yet to have the ball hit in my direction. I know we committed somewhere around 8 errors, but hey, whose counting? I just wanted to get the inning over with and get the team off the field so that we could try and get a few runs back and then start over fresh the next inning. You could see most of the team getting kind of down, realizing that it was going to be a long night and I didn’t want them having that feeling, because when you start to wish you weren’t out there, all hope is lost.

I was playing pretty deep. These guys had been burning us with line drives and I wanted to be able and cut one off and try to gun him out going to second. So naturally, since I was playing deep into center, a soft popup was hit into no-mans land somewhere between left field and the infield. Now, on any ball hit, I always break for it in a sprint. I don’t care where the ball is hit. Hell, it could be a grounder to the first baseman; I always break into a sprint. Usually after about 4 steps is when I adjust my running and either back off completely or keep going since it’s hit to me. Well on this popup, I took off sprinting straight towards it. In any other situation, I would have backed off and let the ball drop and just held the guy to a single. Hell, I remember even thinking that I should do that with this ball. But we were down 11-0 with no outs, so despite the thoughts that had just raced through my mind, I kept going. And time just seemed to stop. My mind went to that place where I’ve tried to force it to go for so long now. I couldn’t hear a thing, not a sound. Not Fellner charging the ball from the opposite direction. Not the other team yelling at the batter to try and stretch out a triple. Nothing. It was an amazing feeling. I can understand how pro ballplayers say that for the most part they don’t hear the fans because they are concentrating so hard. And I can also understand when they say that they aren’t really thinking about the play they are about to make, because for that moment, I stopped thinking. Thinking only seems to cloud your judgment in a split-second situation. You just have to go with your instincts and trust that your body knows what to do.

I swear to God the ball just held in the air a few seconds longer so that I could get under it. There is no way I should have even had a shot to catch that ball. As I got closer, I realized it was going to be unbelievably close and I was going to have to lay out for it. With my legs churning as fast as humanly possible, I dropped to the ground and slid exactly underneath where I thought the ball would land. The combination of my momentum with that of my sudden slide jerked my body into a contortion of twisted and mingled limbs. I didn’t see where the ball went, but I knew I had judged it correctly and that my glove should have been perfectly in place. I ended up seated on my ass and I finally glanced down into my calling glove. The outside fingers were covered in flecks of grass and spots of dirt, but right there in my palm pocket was the most beautiful sight I’ve ever laid eyes upon; a bright and gleaming white softball. I sat there stunned and just stared into my glove for what seemed like hours. In reality, half a second after I caught the thing, Fellner was right there behind me and put his hand on my shoulder. It was at that moment his hand touched me that time sped back up. As sound flooded my ears, I shot to my knees and rocketed the ball back into the infield. I swear the whole thing took at least 60 seconds. An outside observer would truthfully say it was over from start to finish within 6 or 7. As I jogged back into centerfield, I just couldn’t shake that feeling I’d just had. No thinking whatsoever. Not even being aware of the world around me. Just being. Somebody could have shot me and I swear I would have kept running and not realized my wound until Fellner touched my shoulder. It’s what I’ve been trying to feel for so long and I finally achieved it. Through baseball…

I had a few more balls hit to me, but none of those catches even compared to the first one. We ended up losing 23-3, but when you think about it, 3 runs is the most we have ever scored in a game, so I was impressed. I uploaded my stats if anybody even gives a rat’s ass.

God I miss baseball……….

And one last thing on an entirely different subject? What the hell is up with everybody changing their messages boards over to XMB? I hate XMB. It reminds me of this:

Simpsons Quote:
Bart: I didn’t think it was physically possible, but this both sucks and blows.