In-field Fly

Good evening, friends. As I sit at my computer, I find myself excited to no end, about render my version of the story that I consider a highlight of my athletic career. This story is inspired by two things: The notes written by Kenny Johnson on facebook concerning his childhood, as well as the most recent post on Joe Kraftchick's blog. I hope you enjoy, and can catch a glimpse ot the phenomenon that was the black sox.

It was a sunny evening. The stage was set for an epic battle: Black Sox vs. Winnie Rockers...Two rival teams in a league where all that mattered was being better than the team you liked least. It was not so much about winning every game, but about bugging "that team" because your girl just got a triple, or you hit it over their best fielder's head for a homerun, or, most importantly, you kicked the crap out of their team even though they take steroids.

Reliving the day in my head, many of the details are quite blurry. I cannot in fact, even remember which team won that night, although I'm leaning towards the black sox, due to overall superiority. One event, however, stands out clear, as though it happened this afternoon. Up to bat walked Ross Pavan. as I stood on the pitcher's mound (or, more accurately, pitcher's hole), i considered my options. I knew that ross was a decent batter, but, being a fairly obnoxious person, I felt inclined to humiliate him with my superior skills. One out, two to go. My eyes wandered to my left, Rachel standing slightly behind first base, partially blocked from my view by the woman who had just made it to base. I continued to turn, as always, a full 360 in order to ensure my team was paying attention...lance in the field with both hands on knees, ready for what was to come, tara on second looking very non-chelant, and kenny at shortstop, striking a confidant, if not arrogant pose.

I turned to face my enemy, for in a situation such as this, i considered any man prepared to hurl an object in my direction, whether intentionally or not, my enemy. My choice...start with my curve. I became known in the league for a pitch that started way outside, and worked its way back to the strike zone, not a common sight in slowpitch. the ball left my hand, sailed perfectly through the air, and past the sailing bat, right onto home plate, strike one! Now, I should mention, that the specific trajectory and spin which I place on my pitch generally results in one of two things when confronting the average male batter...either a pop fly, easy to catch, or a line drive headed directly towards me, causing many injuries throughout my career.

Pitch two. Fooled him once, I can fool him again. I opted for a variation of the same pitch, where I arc the ball higher, which makes it harder for the batter to hit clean. the swing came, and made contact. The result: and apparent infield fly, an easy out...an automatic out. the ball went up, and I watched as Kenny johnson called for it, with a slightly mischevious look in his eye. the ball was set to land at or near second base. I watched in amazement as Kenny lined up under the ball, and just as it was making its way to his glove, he stepped back. the ball hit the ground just behind second base, whereupon Kenny proceeded to pick it up, touch second base, causing the woman at first to be called ut, and an easy throw to Rachel on first to get ross...a double play to end the inning. In all my life I had never seen this play carried out to such perfection. It brought an instant smile to my face, which was enhanced when I saw the rage in the eyes of Ross Pavan.. "that's cheating, you're cheaters, that wasnt fair!" in fact, the play was perfectly legal, and the nasty comments we recieved stemmed only from the jealousy, for not one man on Ross' team would've had the wits, nor the talent, to carry out such an act of slopitch perfection.

My greatest memory from the Black Sox years, and my thanks to Kenny, Rachel, Ross, girl on first, and myself, for being the characters in such a wonderful moment in history.