indistinguishable young men kept chipping away at our small and banged-up crew, with a cheap hit here and a runner's interference there, and we eventually lost 10-9. It was a noble effort that could have easily gone the other way, and we should hold our heads high after we finish puking.
PLAYER OF THE GAME: I'm going to say Eric Rosen, because he tore the cover off the ball as always, played all nine innings of an excruciatingly slow game despite a looming family obligation, and because my racist alcoholic uncle always told me to curry favor with Jewish people, as "they have the gold." Honorable mention to Justin Flowers, who was his usual self: gutsy, skilled, dedicated, and dutiful in the losing effort. Sorry we let ya down Flow.
DEFENSIVE PLAY OF THE GAME: Sam Bull, scrambling madly for a foul popup and making a graceful sliding catch in front of the awestruck 29er bench for a crucial second out in the tense later innings. Christ, is he handsome. His grandmother says he looks like a young Gregory Peck.
NISSAN DRIVE OF THE GAME: The deadly Kristina Melendez ripping a low opposite-field liner with the bases loaded, knocking in two runs and proving female superiority once and for all, esp. as her male teammates struggled to figure out how to run the bases ahead of her
WORST PLAY OF THE GAME: The pickle. Do you know how it feels to have the 29ers refer to you as "pickleboy" for the rest of your days because you're too fat and slow to chase after Mickey's sister's boyfriend? IT HURTS
PITCH(ES) OF THE GAME:: A nasty brushback that instilled some reticence in the 29ers' loudmouthed catcher, and a terribly unfair waste pitch of an elevator fastball to strike out this guy:
STATS COMING SOON, I PROMISE!
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