WELCOME TO THE SPECIAL SUNSET NOBLES EDITION. MAY OUR TWO GREAT ORGANIZATIONS ALWAYS COEXIST IN HARMONY AND PROSPERITY. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BUY SOME DICK PILLS?

RECAP: Every boy dreams of playing for the Sunset Nobles. I remember lying awake in my Lisa Frank-themed bed at home in Menlo Park in the early '90s with a '50s-era transistor radio in my ear, listening to pirate broadcasts of Nobles games. To someday share a dugout with this cast of characters and soak up the dense pop culture references of a Dave Gardner, or the abstruse political-insider knowledge of an Adrian Covert, or even just to surreptitiously stare at Charlie Ansanelli's body... I knew it was a pipe dream, and I would often shed a single tear, which would roll down my cheek and onto my pillowcase, which depicted a neon pink unicorn frolicking on a tropical beach.

So naturally, when I got the call from Dave Gardner some two decades later that the Nobles were short a guy and needed me to fill in for them against the 29ers, I screamed, threw the phone across the room, and spent the next few hours flapping my hands rapidly while jumping up and down. It was all coming true. 24 hours after that fateful phone call, I was at Potrero Hill Rec, encased in a snug #66 David Gardner alternate jersey, ready to take right field for the honest-to-God Sunset Nobles.

Of course, the game turned out to be a thriller. The 29ers put up an early lead, which is sort of like reporting "the sun came up that morning," but Craig Matoes settled down and held them in check until the fourth, when we finally got to the 29ers' Dodger-hatted pitcher, Ryan Gantz. I had been told the night before by an unreliable source within the 29er organization that Louie would be starting because Gantz was on some sort of cross-country traveling meth binge with his floozy girlfriend, but  this turned out to be false intelligence. Anyway, Ryan started walking guys in the fourth, probably because of my intimidating presence, and eventually was replaced by Louie, who also walked some guys, and gave up some key hits. To be honest, my memory of our rally or the game in general is not exactly photographic. Before the game I had gotten about two hours of sleep on Ray's floor, and it was not quality sleep; more like a "vodka coma." Anyway, what I do remember is that by the middle of the fifth, we had roared ahead to a 9-5 lead, and it looked like we were actually going to beat the 29ers (the self-labeled "Friendly Neighborhood Juggernauts" BARF). I was feeling confident in my new teammates, and the 29ers kind of looked like shit. By their own standards. By league standards, they looked "average to above-average." We were up 9-6 in the sixth when (of course this happened) Mike from the 29ers hit a 400-foot, three-run home run that landed in a palm tree. I like Mike; he's a really nice guy, but he has the physical presence of a man who'd sew your ass to your face outside of a TSOL concert. I really feared and hated him at that moment. That shit pretty much killed our mojo. The 29ers gouged out additional runs in the seventh and eighth, Louie kept us contained for the rest of the game, and we dropped it, 11-9. God DAMMIT I would have loved to win. A Noble win actually would have been bad for the Dealers and our playoff chances, but what can I say, you guys won my heart. For a little while. It'll clear up by August 14th.

PLAYER OF THE GAME: Bill Fucking Sandberg. Other possible nicknames: Bill "Backhand" Sandberg, Bill "Skyy" Sandberg, Ol' Blue Eyes, Bill Iceberg, Willie Soft Hands, The Sunset Strangler, Mr. Showmanship, The Plague.

He had three hits and he put on a goddamn CLINIC at shortstop. Spearing one-hoppers backhanded, ranging out to shallow left for tricky windblown popups...throwing the ball to first in a timely and accurate manner. Sorry, sometimes I run out of baseball terminology. Sandberg was awesome.

DRIVE OF THE GAME: Kind of fucked up to award it to yourself, but the Noble hit I remember most clearly was my opposite-field liner with the bases loaded to knock in two runs and give us the lead. I really hope I'm not forgetting a Dave Gardner home run or something.

PLAY OF THE GAME: I've already mentioned Sandberg's obscene shortstoppage skills, so I'd like to give a shout-out to Charlie Ansanelli's frightening ability to teleport across vast swaths of outfield. There were two hilarious incidents: The fly ball to center that Charlie ran over and caught even though he was playing left, and the bomb that Louie hit over my head in right that he came heartbreakingly close to catching. Ansanelli's combination of size and speed is nonsensical and Bo Jacksonesque. I should also probably mention Craig "I Don't Slide" Matoes bumping into Brandon "Lunchbox" Smith at home plate, eliciting a reaction from the 29ers that at first I thought was absurdly overblown, but now realize was legitimate, because Craig has clearly been trying to murder Brandon all season. I mean, look, we've all thought about it. Craig's just been the only one who's dangerously amoral enough to try it. The man smokes Havana Ovals. He's probably iced more people than Vasili Blokhin.

I also liked Shane Crosby playing "Baby Got Back" as a rally song.

 

THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME PLAY AND FOR VISITING MY BLOG.

I LIKE MONEY.