OTTAWA- Steve “field marshal” Saunders had as usual been trying to “keep all the balls in the air” while trying to firm up the team roster for the game tonight. “wild thing” “wasn’t sure” if he could play, “pound ‘em back” didn’t reply , Adrian “sweetspot” Seaman “would be late”, Glen “the wrangler” Rankin was on holidays, Scott “boom boom” Saunders was “out of town” snatching his daughter and rising star meghan “marathon” Saunders with him, Alison “bulldozer” Hale was out for the season. But once again he managed to pull a rabbit out of the hat—as he had done countless times in the past-- as he secured jack “jackhammer” lawlor and mark “polygon” pintar to fill out the lineup.

Things were looking perfect until the emails began arriving—last minute as usual. “Pound ‘em back” informed “field marshal” that “he was in” , hours before the game. “Wild thing” followed suit minutes later. “field marshal” rolled his eyes as he ripped up the completed lineup card and had another go, pencilling the latecomers into the batting order. “What is it with these guys?”, “field marshal” wondered to himself during a prolonged bout of self-pity.

So with ten players total now—seven guys and three girls, they would play a guy at catcher and have one guy sit out per inning. That was a reasonable compromise. Magnanimously, “wild thing” volunteered to be catcher for the game, so in a “tip of his cap” to his unselfish gesture, “field marshal” spared him from having to sit out an inning. All the guys playing the field would rotate instead.

The team got off to a terrific start scoring five runs in each of the first two innings while shutting out the Aquabats to go up 10-0. Sure there were a few hiccups along the way but nothing that seriously derailed their momentum. Leah “the roadrunner” Morrell had been scolded last week for showing up mildly inebriated so ”field marshal” made a point of asking her if she had avoided the “bier garten” this week. Lowering her head she kicked at some stones on the infield before replying “no sir” meekly—refusing to look him in the eye. “But in my defense, today is my birthday”, she continued, praying for a reprieve from the tirade that was sure to follow. “field marshal” paused, his gaping maw ajar. He had sucked in great lungfuls of air in preparation for the ferocious diatribe he was about to unleash. But instead he looked at “the roadrunner” , eyes wide—albeit slightly bloodshot—like a fawn staring into the headlights of an oncoming pickup truck. He quickly reconsidered and purged his lungs in a great whoosh like a deflating balloon. Slightly light-headed now, he walked towards “the roadrunner” who began to tremble. He put his huge meat hook hands around her shoulders as she braced for the worst. To her complete shock, he pulled her in tight for a hug. “Happy Birthday roadrunner”, he roared loud enough for the whole diamond to hear and break into spontaneous applause. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

As the game progressed Kathie “daredevil” Adare began hitting like an automaton as she parked the ball time and time again through the tight gap between short and third, taunting her old teammates. “the roadrunner” looking to atone for her “bier garten” foibles was crushing the ball all night long, including a rare triple. Paris “songbird” Patricelli began lifting her front leg and stepping into each pitch—as she had been taught in bootcamp—managing to hit the ball further and further each at bat. Clark “pound ‘em back” lawlor crushed a line drive home run into left field (his first of the season) as did Ryan “man-o-war” matischuk.

With the funbunch clearly on cruise control, “field marshal” strode to the plate after “man-o-war” had cleared the bases. With one home run still in the bank, he grabbed the “new breed” bat. He was a patient man, but his patience was running out. This was a bat that had a sweet spot the size of a dime. He desperately wanted to park a ball with this bat. He had done so in practice – countless time. But he kept hitting the handle in the game and the results were less than impressive. With only two games to go til the tournament he was determined to hit at least one ball off the snout of the bat and send it soaring. With perhaps his last at bat of the game, and nobody one, he strode to the plate. He knew if he connected it would be a “solo shot”, but he didn’t see that as a selfish gesture. No this was one of magnanimity. He would sacrifice his at bat to determine if the “new breed” was tournament ready. Surely the team would agree.

He took a couple of practice swings. So far so good he thought. He took one last look at the barrel. It was misshapen. Since it was “end loaded” it had a skinny handle and a bulbous end. He knew he would have to hit the ball on the very end for maximum impact. Although he loved to pull the ball , that simply wasn’t going to cut it with the “new breed”. He was going to have to be patient and wait a little longer til the ball was almost over the plate before he swung. He was going to have to aim to straight away center. That didn’t come naturally to the “field marshal”. He sighed and took a deep breath and dug himself into the plate. “pound ‘em back” released the ball. It floated in like a beach ball. “field marshal” wanted to swing but he knew he couldn’t . He didn’t want to hit the handle. Be patient, he thought to himself. One-steamboat, two-steamboats, three-steamboats. The ball crossed the plate and “field marshal” swung. He hit the ball square on the end of the bat. It made an unearthly sound, like a banshee, as it ascended into the stratosphere. There was no doubt about this one. It was going a long, long way. He turned and marched into the dugout, pleased that the “new breed” monkey was now off his back.

Meanwhile, “songbird” was playing the “hot corner” in her debut at third base. The Aquabats quickly sensed her trepidation as they targeted her relentlessly all night long. Poor “songbird” first took a ball off her toe. Then she took one off her shoulder. Her uncle and mentor steve “field marshal” saunders was playing beside her at shortstop and he was not impressed. “Use your glove for gawd’s sake. Block it with your body, but only as a last resort”, he yelled, adding insult to injury. Tough-as-nails, she took his chastising in stride as she hunkered down, determined to prove her mettle. The next batter scorched the ball directly at her. I mean it was a rocket. Poor “songbird” barely had time to react. At the last minute she dropped her glove and appeared to pray. It was to no avail however as the ball hit her squarely above the knee. It made a loud popping noise, like a plastic bat hitting a whiffle ball. “songbird” dropped to the ground as if shot. To her credit she jumped to her feet and insisted she stay in the game, tears of pain trickling down her temple. Her uncle the “field marshal” beamed with pride. “Atta girl”, he whispered to her as he slapped her back hard enough to make her wince with his glove.

The game’s outcome was never in doubt. The fun bunch seized the lead in the first inning and held it throughout the game. The aquabats did however manage to put together a string of 4-4-5 runs to close the gap to 20-14, before the funbunch snuffed out their defiant rally, scoring five runs and pressing their jackboots firmly into the throat of their adversary til they squealed for mercy. Final score fun bunch 23 , aquabats 15.