OTTAWA - In what has become an all-too-familiar pattern, the fun bunch couldn't field a full squad at game time--despite the fact that it was an 8 pm game. Colin Bromfield--captain of the Athletics and league convener--was not impressed. He harrumphed his displeasure and stomped around home plate kicking up a considerable amount of dust, when informed that the game wouldn't start on time. Steve "field marshal" Saunders gritted his teeth but was helpless as only Leah "the roadrunner" Morrell and Rowena "scoresheet" Sams, showed up on time. As soon as he spotted Alison "bulldozer" Hale pull into the parking lot--ten minutes late--he gave the go ahead to start the game.

The past two games, the fun bunch have merrily spotted their opponents early leads. Tonight was no different except the lead was larger and went on for four painful innings. Digging their biggest hole yet, the fun bunch were soon down 10 - 2. Compounding their predicament, the Athletics had clearly done some recruiting in the off season and had amassed a legion of amazons. As the fun bunch watched them take infield warm-up, their women gobbled up hard grounders and threw hard enough to "pop" the glove at first base. There wasn't a weak arm in the bunch. All of them could absolutely unload the ball with velocity. As if that wasn't intimidating enough, they were equally adept at bat as they easily crushed the ball hither and yon in the first inning to score five runs without an out including a triple that sailed over clark "pound 'em back" lawlor's head all the way to the fence.

After four innings, the team had seen enough. Down eight runs, steve "field marshal" saunders placed his firm hand on the tiller to wrest his ship from the shoals. "Listen team, we still have three home runs in our back pocket, so let's save those for when we have some runners on base", he said staring directly at John "hans solo" devries who let out a nervous giggle and then farted. But like the fun bunch has done so many times before, they rallied. "field marshal" with a triple, nancy "triple threat" harris with a single, scott "boom boom" saunders with a double, "hans solo" with a two run shot. When the dust had settled they had earned 4 runs and made the score a bit more respectable 10-6 half way through the fifth inning.

But, just when the pain had begun to abate, the Athletics replied with a soul-crushing five run inning of their own. Hit after hit dropped into the outfield with surgical precision--each one farther than the last. The Athletic batters came to the plate now with a swagger -- as if they were invincible. Donning batting gloves and surveying the outfield they tormented the fun bunch, goading them with their puerile behaviour. As the fun bunch struggled to keep the game within striking distance, the wheels soon loosened and then came completely off the wagon. With a couple of runners on, the Athletics hit a towering fly ball to deep center field. Tracking the ball and moving lithely, was sure-footed center fielder scott "boom boom" saunders. As the ball swirled in the dark night sky, "boom boom", kept moving quicker and quicker to keep pace with the sharply hit projectile. Tantalizingly close to reeling in the ball, the laws of physics caught up with "boom boom", as his slick tennis shoes finally lost their grip on the damp outfield grass. Airborne momentarily, he landed quickly on his head before doing an impromptu and unnatural looking cartwheel that ended in a jarring halt. The ball landed harmlessly on the warning track behind him, while the Athletics cleared the bases--resembling an old fashioned carnival carousel turning round-and-round. With his big brother looking on and shaking his head, "boom boom" regained consciousness, sat up painfully and made himself a quick mental note: get cleats tomorrow.

Sadly, the magical nay mystical play of Richard "wild thing" Bujold from the week before had all but disappeared--like Cinderella's carriage at the stroke of midnight. Deftly caught balls were instead juggled and dropped. Smooth fielding turned into a slow motion horror show. It was painful, like watching a failed vaudeville audition. The once gilded colossus had become severely weathered, exposing the cheap brass beneath.

With the score 7-15 for the Athletics after six innings, the writing appeared to be on the wall. Heads drooped in the fun bunch dug out. Dejected , dishevelled and on the verge of outright humiliation, the fun bunch seemed a shadow of their former selves. The team badly needed an inspiration and that is when Leah "the roadrunner" Morrell, decided to take charge. Normally, quiet and unassuming, she had seen enough. She stomped off the field and threw her glove in disgust. Chatter in the dugout came to an abrupt end. She picked up all the bats leaning against the back stop and threw them into the grass. Her teammates were transfixed. Without so much as uttering a word, she had brilliantly summed up the feelings of the team. She grabbed a bat and stomped into the batter's box promptly drilling the first pitch for a single. Taking her lead, "field marshal" came next to the plate. For the first time tonight, he did not have to bat leadoff and everyone knew what that meant as he too promptly drilled the first pitch and watched it sailed out of the ball park for a two run shot. Hits by "scoresheet" and "boom boom" resulted in a four run inning, to narrow the gap to 11-15.

With the Athletics coming to bat, the fun bunch practically needed a miracle to keep this game alive. As if on cue, with runners on first and second, the next Athletics batter hit a grounder directly at "field marshal" who had silently been praying for just such an occurrence. Straddling the baseline he scooped up the ball neatly. With a quick look heavenward, he mouthed the words "thank you" before he charged hard at the incoming base runner. Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi , the base runner stopped dead in his tracks. "field marshal" accelerated towards him. With a look of sheer horror on his face he braced himself for the impact . A smile broke out on the "field marshal" as he smashed the base runner with all his might across the face with his glove. "payback's a bitch", he chortled as he flicked the ball to stunned second baseman richard "wild thing" bujold for the double play. "two out" , "field marshal" yelled to his compatriots as the unfortunate athletic player was helped off the field.

With two out now, the next Athletic batter came to the plate. Surveying the outfield they spotted what seemed like a gap between center and left. One pitch later they had drilled what seemed like a perfectly placed hit into that location. On an ordinary team, the batter would have an easy double, maybe even a triple. But the fun bunch is no ordinary team. At the crack of the bat, left fielder glen "the wrangler" rankin took off like a shot. He knew the odds were against him. This ball was perfectly placed but he sped up nonetheless. The ball began its decent. It was hopeless. Newtonian physics notwithstanding, this was a done deal. But "the wrangler" never studied physics--he was an accountant after all. He just kept running. The memories of all those five am hockey practices came flooding back to him. He was not a quitter. Impossibly he continued accelerating. It was no use, the ball was going to land hard. Taking one final leap "the wrangler" stretched out with all his might. The ball hit the edge of his glove, but bounced off. Undaunted, he reached out again--in mid air no less--with his bare hand and stabbed at the ball. This time it bounced off his index finger and farther away from his glove. It was a valiant effort but the ball was set to fall into the grass despite his herculean effort. But "the wrangler" would not be denied. Summoning all his remaining energy he took one last deep breath and lunged for the ball. Glove outstretched, he caught it --like an ice cream cone--in the very tip of his webbing before crashing face first into the outfield and sliding for ten feet before coming to a stop. In pain and out of breath, he held his glove high in the air--ball still firmly entrapped. "Three out" he said as he spit out a mouthful of sod.

With the score 16-12 in the top of the eighth inning the fun bunch still had an outside chance. Some clutch hitting and outstanding fielding had stemmed the bleeding and begun to turn the tide. The team was feeling more buoyant. Lead off hits by "scoresheet", "bulldozer" and Mark "polygon" pintar loaded the bases. The athletics collectively gulped as "field marshal" grabbed a bat. With the weight of his team once more on his broad shoulders he sauntered to the plate. Everyone on the field new exactly what was going to happen but stood helpless to prevent it. No, this wasn't going to be any ordinary home run, "field marshal" was quite sure of that. This was going to be a statement, meant to strike fear into the hearts of the Athletics.

After what seemed like an eternity, "field marshal" settled into the batter's box. His little brother, scott "boom boom" saunders, looked at him with respect and admiration. "field marshal" , salivating at this point, calmly advised his brother once more to "toss it in like a beach ball". One pitch later, the ball was gone. The sound that was made when the bat hit the ball was deafening. It was if a rocket had been launched from Cape Canaveral. The fielders fell down from the aftershock. The ball went on an unnatural trajectory--almost straight up. The ball cleared the center field fence, the hampton park forest, and Island park drive over one kilometre away. The fun bunch had impossibly tied the game.

Going into the bottom of the eighth inning, tied 16 all, the fun bunch knew they would have to come up with another stellar defensive inning. After quickly getting two outs, the win seemed within their grasp. But fate was cruel that night, as the Athletics managed a three run rally with two outs to move ahead 19-16. Down to their last chance in the top of the ninth, "boom boom" lead off with a double and came in to score on another double by "hans solo", but the comeback then came to an abrupt end as their bats fell silent. Out of miracles, the fun bunch lost their first game of the season 19-17, a victim of their propensity to spot their foes an early lead.