Back in college at the University of Portland there was an annual battle to see who could rise up and conquer the Mt. Everest of all intramural sports - The 5 on 5 Basketball: Competitive League. My buddy Ty and I were on a team that won it all our sophomore year but we were merely invited onto that team and it wasn't "our" team. They weren't really our friends. While it was fun, it wasn't all that we had hoped it to be. We wanted to do it on our own.
Senior year we finally assembled a team that we felt could do it. After losing our first game to some needledicks we ran the table in the regular season. The way it worked is that we'd go out, slaughter our opponent and then all go get drunk afterward. Times were good. We won our playoff games and made it to the championship game to be played in The Chiles Center - this is where the real basketball team played so that only added to the excitement.
Our team was visibly nervous prior to the game and during the first half. When halftime rolled around we were ahead by one.
At the beginning of the second half my three roommates and I all were on the bench. The teams traded buckets for about 6 minutes and that's when all four of us checked in. I'm not gonna lie and say that the four of us checking in was intimidating seen as how we are all basically 6 foot tall white guys. But what transpired could best be compared with when Michael Corleone had everybody killed at the end of The Godfather. Ty hit a layup. Thornburgh hit a 3. Then I scored on the baseline followed by three 3's in a row. All in all we went on a 15-0 run in two minutes putting us up by 16. Game blouses. I'm bored, who wants some pancakes. Good times. Let me tell you, the 40's were flowing that night!
Now for my greatest sporting achievement ever: when we were in high school my buddies and I loved to play wiffle ball. And when I say "loved" you need to understand that we used to play about once a week during the summers. There were six of us who were the core: Kevin, Matt, Hank, Nate, Davis and me. We had a fairly unique set up in that we had distinct teams: The West Hill Fighting Squirrels composed of Hank, Nate and Davis and The Maywood $pud$ composed of Kevin, Matt and me. Those were the teams and that's how it worked every time we played. You also need to understand that we didn't just go outside and start smacking the wiffle ball around. We played at Hiscock Memorial Stadium. Hiscock was located in my front yard with the garage door as the backstop behind the plate. We had bases out in the street and the field extended across the street into Ms. Hugg's yard. Her garden happened to be shaped like a baseball field so it acted as our fence and it was a homer if you hit it into her garden (or hit her house, or her front window, or went onto her roof, or over her house). The field also went around to the left of her yard and into the street. That's where we placed four large traffic cones like this:
Kevin and I "borrowed" these cones from a construction site and they served as the supports for the left field wall that sat in the street and connected to Ms. Hugg's garden serving as the perfect wiffle ball home run fence. Additionally we kept having yelling matches over disputed fair or foul home run calls so Hank took matters into his hands and "borrowed" two 15 foot tall PVC pipes from a construction site. We painted the pipes bright yellow and kept them in buckets filled with dirt so they stood perfectly upright in both left and right field at the end of the duct tape foul lines in the street. Hiscock Memorial Stadium had a flood light over our driveway and we would also run two extension cords out into right and left field where we would set up more flood lights for night games. Did you think we were messing around here? Come on now bra! This was serious business. We had a wooden scoreboard that hung above the garage and everything. It was legit.
I should also mention that Hiscock Memorial Stadium was named after Bill Hiscock who was an old neighbor of Kevin and Matt. It was initially Hiscock Stadium but we changed it to Hiscock Memorial Stadium after he passed away...obviously.
Anyway, I digress (I don't know what the really means but I know you use it after you've rambled on for far too long), so one fine Saturday we all agreed that we would clear our calendars and play an all day seven game World Series.
The Maywood $pud$ (Kevin, Matt and me) got off to a hot start and won three of the first four games for a 3-1 series advantage. Then the West Hill Fighting Squirrels fought back and took two games in a row to send the series to the deciding game seven.
At this point we had been playing for about seven straight hours with only a pizza break keeping us going. By the time you get to game seven it's a battle of wills to see who wants it more and who can handle the pressure. And as you'd expect from two such fine teams game seven lived up to its billing.
The $pud$ jumped out to a fairly significant lead in the first 5 innings. I'm quite sure the score was something like 13-3. Basically an ass whooping was in the works. However, in typical Squirrel fashion, they clawed their way back into the game and even took the lead in the top of the ninth inning on some clutch hitting with two outs. Heading into the bottom of the ninth it was Squirrels 15 - $pud$ 13. You could feel the tension in the air. It wasn't even fun at that point. It was a battle. There was no joking around or teasing of any kind. In fact the two teams weren't even talking at all - every one's face had a look of complete focus and tension. Frankly I'm getting a little tense just recalling the situation as I'm typing this.
The $pud$ were reeling after giving up the huge lead so we had to get things going. We were determined to come back. Matt led off the ninth with a screaming line drive right at Hank for an out. Then Kevin managed to draw a walk off Nate. So we had a runner on first with one out.
I step to the plate and my palms are sweaty, my heart is racing. It's crunch time. I just missed a good pitch and fled out to Davis in left. So we were facing two outs with only a runner on first.
I'll admit, things were looking pretty bleak for the $pud$. But, moments like these are where great teams and great players show their true character. Matt calmly stepped to the dish and smoked a single that bounced off the curb and back into the street. Kevin easily advanced to third on the carom. First and third - two outs.
Kevin steps in, stares the pressure right in the face and has what's known in the business as a professional at bat. He fouls off about 5 pitches before finally drawing a walk to load the bases. Holy shit! At this point I distinctly remember feeling some excitement because I was going to get another shot to win the game after flying out my last at bat. Then I started to feel the nerves so I took a few moments to compose myself, collect my thoughts and to get into a good frame of mind for the biggest at bat ever. It's not every day that one gets to step to the plate with the bases loaded, two outs and your team down by two in the deciding game of a seven game marathon. This one at bat would decide everything and one team would walk away as kings and the other in somber defeat.
Upon stepping in I distinctly remember feeling quite nervous. Almost shaky to be honest. But after taking a couple pitches and working the count I began to slip into a calm focus. You've heard it a thousand times but its these huge pressure moments where great players step up and make clutch plays. It's how the greats are made. By making big plays at big moments in big games.
At this point Nate was so dialed in that he was painting the corners with all his pitches so I was doing everything just to stay alive. I fouled off several pitches and the count ran full. Nate threw a great pitch - a cutting fastball right on the inside corner. I turned on it just right and hit a grand slam off of the very top of the foul pole in left field! Game over, series over. A pig pile ensued. The Maywood $pud$ were the champions!
And that, my friends, is my greatest sporting achievement ever.
No comments:
Post a Comment