Oakland Beers 25, Mission St. Dealers 9: The Inadequacy of Language

RECAP: When I started writing this blog, the Dealers had just embarked upon what would eventually become a seven-game losing streak. As a member of the team, it was a hellish experience, but as a writer, it produced a lot of juicy material: failure, self-reproach and internal conflict are inherently more interesting than unremitting triumph (29ersbaseball.blogspot.com). Then we started winning again, and I became nervous; I don't know how to deal with success. Fortunately, that ceased to be an issue last Saturday, as a shitty team from Oakland took our playoff hopes and smashed them like so many watermelons underneath the dread hammer of Gallagher.



Holy SHIT, we were bad. It was 18-0 by the middle of the fifth. Our pitchers walked 24 batters. Vinnie Martini almost earned Player of the Game honors with what was essentially a joke appearance in the ninth inning. This is not to deflect the spotlight from our hitting or fielding: we sucked at EVERYTHING. For instance, this route taken by Vinnie Martini on a routine fly ball to right field:





Other complaints: Stonehouse bringing a pitcher of margaritas onto the field; Rob Spector having about as much luck as that park ranger who got struck by lightning seven times; the Dealers falling behind in the standings to the Richmond Cleaners, who don't seem to care at all. Now, on to the positive:

PLAYER OF THE GAME: Vinnie. Really. He had good at-bats, and his pitching experiment taught us all to feel joy again.

1997 FULLY LOADED DODGE VIPER ORIGINAL OWNER DRIVE OF THE GAME: Chris is starting to make extraordinary accomplishments look mundane, as he parked yet another home run out of Potrero Field in the bottom of the 7th. If we don't make the playoffs, at least we got to see a lot of moon shots this year.

Honorable Mention: Justin Flowers with the bases-clearing 3-RBI triple/near home run in the bottom of the sixth. Not only is he our Cy Young; he might also be our Adam Dunn.  

PLAY OF THE GAME:  Will Cornyn cutting off a tough chopper to the 5.5 hole and then calmly firing one of his trademark 120-foot fastballs to first base to nail some dude. I remember myself and umpire Ray both saying, "whoa."

MARK MOSS OF THE GAME: Eric Rosen (three hits)

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I BEAT MY FACE AGAINST MY KEYBOARD: IUUHFRIOUW208G42998GR599GELSPSJKLWPWPLJP4OIVCTFXSEAasrdf

STATS!