OTTAWA-It was a perfect golf day wednesday. A tad hot but no wind and sunny. Steve "field marshal" Saunders had a good feeling. He had confirmation from five guys and three women for the game tonight and his little brother scott "boom boom" saunders was going to ask jess "bulls-eye" belanger to bring out her friend to make a full squad. For the first time in a long while, he could simply concentrate on his brilliant golf game without having to worry about fielding a last minute squad. So confident was he in fact that he turned off his faithful blackberry so as to not be disturbed.

He was playing the local beater course "champlain". Although it was in need of a fair bit of TLC, "field marshal" loved the challenging layout including the monster 600 yd par 5 10th hole, tough even for him to reach in two. In addition, he had found an ad on their website stating that seniors of 50 years or older got a discount and had to pay only $20 for a round. He strode into the pro shop giddy with excitement as he exclaimed that he would like the reduced rate. That set the manager into fits of laughter as he and his assistant belly-laughed and guffawed for what seemed like an eternity as "field marshal" stood perplexed at the source of their merriment. "If you're fifty years old buddy, I'll eat your 3-iron", the manager managed to spit out with great difficulty between paroxysms of laughter.

Of course, now he understood. They didn't believe him. Looking a full twenty years younger than his true age of 53, "field marshal" nodded and reached into his wallet to pull out his driver's license. Unfortunately, this set the two of them into another fit of hysteria, causing the assistant to fall on the ground, roll around and start crying. "Look buddy, we're not looking at your photo-shopped, fake ID. There is simply no way you are fifty years old", the manager said firmly, wiping away tears from his eyes. "field marshal" was determined however. An hour later after displaying twelve pieces of ID including his passport, a water bill with his address on it, and a sworn affidavit from his lawyer, the manager begrudgingly charged him only the "senior's" rate.

With that he was off on a relaxing and leisurely round of golf for the bargain rate of $20. He started off with a 300 yd drive on the par 5, 520yd first hole. This caused some consternation with the group in front of him, who were putting on the green when "field marshal's" ball came sailing in with the velocity of a cruise missile. They quickly waited for him and waved him through so as to not be caught in the cross hairs of his next drive. The round continued in this manner for several more holes, with "field marshal's" game honed into mid-season form as he striped drive after drive down the middle of the fairway and hit every green in regulation. Bogey-less and with a couple of birdies in his back pocket he approached the "widow-maker". The 616 yd par 5, 10th hole. The hole that had caused grown men to break down and cry. But "field marshal" was feeling it today as he teed up his titleist prov1 and surveyed the daunting expanse in front of him. You couldn't even see the flag with the naked eye, the hole was so long but "field marshal" took a deep breath, waggled his callaway razr fit extreme driver and proceeded to wallop the stuffing out of his golf ball. He held his follow through for an eternity, patiently waiting for the ball to land. But so massive was the drive that he simply gave up, picked up his tee and proceeded walking down the fairway as the ball was still in the air.

It landed hard at about the three hundred yard mark, all carry, bounced once and continued rolling down the parched fairway. When all was said and done, the ball finished about three hundred and fifty yards from the tee box. That still left two hundred and sixty six yards to the green, a gargantuan drive for most players. But field marshal was unperturbed as he fished out his stiff steel-shafted big bertha three wood and dug in for the long haul. With great precision he crunched the ball , in the dead center of the sweet spot and watched it sail off towards the flagstick with uncanny accuracy. It landed just before the long undulating green, but the draw spin caused the ball to dig in and continue rolling. Up, up, up it rolled getting every closer to the hole with each rotation. It stopped about ten feet short of the pin, but on a tight slope. It was a potential eagle putt, but it certainly wouldn't be easy. Doing his best to calculate the precise vectors required to drain ball, "field marshal" released his taylor-made "daddy long legs" putter and the ball took off on a tightly sloping trajectory. With a bit too little pace the ball broke before the hole and sat on the lip for a tap-in birdie. While not an eagle, a birdie on the "widow-maker" was something he'd remember for a long time.

After the round, and a quick bite to eat, "field marshal" headed to hampton park to install the bases and get ready for the game. The fun bunch players started straggling in and by game time, they still hadn't fielded a full squad--which was typical. Four guys and three girls for a meagre seven players. "field marshal" asked "bulls-eye" where her friend was but she said no one asked her to invite her. So much for "boom boom" doing his job. Then there was the question of john "methuselah" devries, absent after confirming his participation only yesterday. "field marshal" told "boom boom" to start pitching and he would try to track down "methuselah" but could not get an answer on his cell phone, and he wasn't responding to text messages, email or smoke signals. His tough job just got a lot tougher as "boom boom" , rusty from kicking back and missing the last five games, struck out all three batters to end the inning.

The Aquabats, however, came prepared to win. They had a "new look" team with many young, agile, athletic looking players. Payback was first and foremost on their mind as they hadn't beaten the fun bunch in several years. They batted around and scored five runs to make a statement. Fun Bunch down 5-0, and with only seven players had a tall mountain to climb. That is when things took a turn for the worse. On a high fly ball to left-center field, in the top of the second inning, sure-footed fielders scott "boom boom" saunders and mark "polygon" pintar converged on the ball as it rapidly descended. Well placed in the gap between them, both fielders began running flat out for the ball, but unaware of what the other was doing. Just as "boom boom" went to close his glove, "polygon" landed with a thud, shoulder first on his nose, then lip, splitting both and causing a shower of blood to commence gushing from his now misshapen snout. With shards of his lip wedged between his teeth, "boom boom's" world was a hazy soup. He got to one knee, then fell over--not sure where he was or what day it was. Blood continued to pour from his nose like a broken fire hydrant. By that time his big brother steve "field marshal" saunders had arrived at the scene to survey the damage. While it didn't look good, he could see "boom boom's" nose at least wasn't broken. Sure it was going to be sore for a while--once it stopped bleeding, but some ice should get it down to a more manageable size. "ok kiddo, catch your breath and lets help you off the field. You're job is done for tonight, time to hit the showers", came "field marshal's" sage advice. With that his teammates helped him up and off the field as everyone applauded. "boom boom" was done, and now the fun bunch porous outfield looked like swiss cheese.

This was getting ridiculous thought "field marshal" as he was getting ready to play three positions in the infield single-handedly, when a newcomer from the aquabats approached him. "Excuse me, Mr. field marshal, sir, but I'd be willing to replace your injured outfielder if you'd like". Like a gift from god, "field marshal" simply couldn't believe his good fortune. "Sure kid, that would be great, what's your name?". "It's Dylan sir", he replied. "Ok Dylan, you've got center field, let's see what you've got". Dylan beamed. He was so excited he was giddy. He was going to play on the "field marshal's" team. He dug in to prove his mettle.

After the dust had settled and Dylan had replaced "boom boom", the aquabats had built up a seemingly insurmountable 12-2 lead by the middle of the fourth inning. The fun bunch still only had seven players as "methuselah" had still not responded to any communications forcing "field marshal" to file a missing persons report with the police. As the team shambled off the field, "field marshal" was laying in wait for them, in the dugout. They prepared themselves for the worst, but instead received some fatherly reassurance. "Look team, we've been through a lot tonight. We've lost "boom boom" and "methuselah" has left us twisting in the wind. But let's just do our best to at least make this game respectable. Let's start chipping away at that lead and see if we can get it down to single digits", "field marshal" calmly urged his crestfallen comrades.

Once again, the team responded to his behest. Hits by "roadrunner", "bulldozer" and "polygon" loaded the bases. "field marshal" strode to the plate. He had had some difficulty his first two at bats. With "boom boom" gone, that left richard "wild thing" bujold to pitch. Eager, but undisciplined, "wild thing" was a site to behold, as balls sailed in from every direction, eluding the strike zone with great proficiency. "field marshal" sighed. He looked out at the mound. There stood "wild thing" like a puppy. Tail wagging, tongue lolling, eyes bulging--wanting ever so desperately to please his master, yet failing miserably up to this point. "Ok 'wild thing' , you know the drill. think beach ball", "field marshal" cooed with the patience of a saint. No sooner were the words spoken, when the first pitch came rolling across the plate in the dirt. "Patience is a virtue", "field marshal" thought to himself. The next pitch was about two feet over his head, so it wouldn't do either. Down to his last pitch he choked up on the bat. Time for a new game plan he thought. Just try to make solid contact. Well lo and behold the next pitch was perfect. It was the perfect height, and speed and floated in right over the plate like, well, a beach ball. "field marshal" couldn't believe his good fortune as he pummeled the living daylights out of the hapless softball and watch it disintegrate as it sailed over the center field fence for a grand slam. By the end of the inning, the fun bunch had managed to claw their way back into the game 12-7.

The pesky aquabats managed to score three more in the fifth widening the gap to 15-7. But the fun bunch had changed. In that one last inning, they had become battle hardened. They realized momentum had shifted in their favour and they weren't about to take their foot off the gas. Like an advancing army, they moved forward in lockstep unison. The aquabats were unsure what to do about this. Their carefully drawn plans were unravelling like a spool of loosely wound toilet paper. They started squabbling in the dugout. They mishandled hard grounders and dropped balls at first. The fun bunch took extra bases at will. Their world was spiralling out of control and they were helpless to do anything about it. At least one of their players started to cry.

That is when the "roadrunner" strode to the plate. She had already scored four runs as she played the aquabats like a fiddle. They had no solution to her combination of power and speed. As she dug into the batter's box, they had an impromptu huddle in the outfield, trying desperately to brainstorm a defensive plan for this one-woman leviathan. The "roadrunner" took a deep breath and looked out to the pitching mound. "toss it in like a beach ball", she giggled. One pitch later, the aquabat defensive plan was in shambles as the ball sailed over the center fielder's head all the way to the home run fence. The "roadrunner" , issued a quick "beep beep" and took off like, well, a roadrunner. This was going to be good. The "roadrunner" was clearly on a mission as she rounded second and flew into third. This time she clearly heard "field marshal" yelling "go home" over the din of the queensway traffic. As she stepped on the bag at third, the ball was coming in to that base, but she would not be denied. Never wavering, she dug in and flew all the way home as the ball was misplayed at third. She had done it. She had recorded an in-the-park home run after coming oh-so-close on several other occasions, joining "bulls-eye" in that illustrious club.

After five innings, the score was 15-12. The fun bunch had closed the gap to three runs. But the teams traded runs in the six and the score was 18-15 for the aquabats -- still a three run gap. Heading into the last inning , the fun bunch would need a miracle. The first batter hit an easy single. The next batter hit a deep ball into center field. The runner on first advanced to second and then brazenly kept running to third. Meanwhile, newcomer Dylan had picked up the ball and saw the play unfold. Out of the corner of his eye he saw "field marshal" surveying the situation. He was going to make this his defining moment as he reared back and threw a perfect strike into Allison "bulldozer" Hale at third base. A little surprised, but prepared nonetheless, she glanced at the incoming base runner and realized that this was going to require a more difficult tag play. She blocked the bag with her body as she snagged the ball. The base runner, caught off guard by her aggressive play attempted to side step "bulldozer". At that moment, she swung her glove with all her might at the hapless player. Off balance, he left the ground, not of his own volition . He careened through the air and landed awkwardly, face first in the dirt. He was clearly out but that was the least of his concerns as he felt a tooth wiggle loose. He got up and with what little dignity he could muster , stutter stepped off the field--embarrassed, dirty, sore and facing a hefty dental bill.

With one out and a runner on first, "bulldozer" had served notice that she for one was not going down without a fight. The aquabats realized they were in over their heads. A couple of players began assembling a makeshift white flag of surrender, to have a the ready. In-the-park home runs? grand slam homers? tag plays at third? They had none of those weapons in their pop-gun arsenal. The fun bunch had called their bluff and they were beginning to regret it. Two more spectacular outfield catches and the aquabats had gone down without a run. The score was still 18-15, but the fun bunch had the bottom half of the inning to complete their siege.

"wild thing" lead off with a double on a clever base-running maneuver. Once again, digging out a big hit when they needed it "bulldozer" sprayed a ball into the outfield for a single scoring "wild thing". Score 18-16. "polygon" crunched a deep hit to score "bulldozer" and advance to second. Score 18-17 - nobody out. "Roadrunner" came to the plate. She had already scored five runs but she wasn't done yet. She crunched the first pitch once again into the outfield for a stand up triple to score "polygon". Nobody out, game tied and "field marshal" strode to the plate. He desperately wanted to park the first pitch over the fence and win the game in style. But somehow "wild thing" had gotten control of the pitching mound again and he was up to his old hijinks. "field marshal" watched the first pitch land about a foot before the plate. "be patient" , he thought. The next one was three feet outside the plate. "Take a deep breath, remain calm", he urged himself. The last pitch was going to land short of the plate too. With no choice he took three huge steps forward and lunged at the ball. He hit it a ton, but it went a mile into the air. He charged to first. There was a commotion as a number of players tried to track the flight of the ball which was still ascending. After what seemed like an eternity, the pin-prick in the sky started getting bigger. It was coming down fast and hard. With no spin, it was jumping around like a knuckleball. "field marshal" quickly realized this wasn't going to be caught. Not in this league. To make things more interesting, he began stutter stepping between first and second, to make the play more difficult. The ball landed with a thud, and almost completely disappeared as it embedded in the hard outfield. "roadrunner" seized the opportunity and trotted home for the winning run.

Seething, the first base woman dug the ball out of the ground and ran after "field marshal" who quickly stepped back on to the bag at first. The game was over the fun bunch had won, but this woman was delirious, as she continued charging hard at "field marshal". Bracing himself for impact, she dove at him with her glove. While she was no match for his rock-solid muscle, she was a big woman nonetheless and her momentum was much larger. She knocked him over. As he fell backwards, he stretched out and maintained contact with first base with the tip of his foot. She landed on top of him with the force of a small hippo, but still he kept his foot firmly on the bag. After her teammates pulled her off him, he got up, dusted himself off and ran over to celebrate with the rest of his teammates. They had done the impossible and beat the aquabats. Despite being down 12-2, despite losing one of their best fielders, and despite being short players.