RECAP: Aren't we full of surprises? Like an abusive deadbeat boyfriend who takes you to The House of Prime Rib for Valentine's Day (Hello TREVOR you left your Alien Ant Farm CD in my DVD player again), the Dealers do just enough every once in a while to keep your loins twitching. Sunday's game was difficult to even locate, as the venue switched from Potrero Hill to Glen Park Playground to St. Mary's all while I was riding a transbay BART train full of drunk Bay to Breakers people dressed as bananas/Ron Burgundy/sexy sea captains. Everyone looked a little green around the gills when I got there (Spoon in particular, sitting quietly with that Dick Cheney countenance he gets whenever the absinthe was flowing the previous night), and the first inning was completely horrible. We went down in order to the ironically named pitcher "Smiley," then gave up a total of three runs with a series of embarrassing errors. The next two innings were also pretty bad, as Frowney continued to dominate and the Cleaners piled on some more unearned runs to make it 6-0. We rallied for five runs in the top of the fourth, loading the bases then bringing 'em in with a Rosen single, a Moss walk, a Segura FC, and a clutch two-run line drive from Jimmy McConnell. Abraham shut the Cleaners down in the bottom half, then we took the lead in the fifth with a three-run smash 'n' grab that included a deliciously unexpected Crizzle bunt (don't do drugs, kids). Abe pitched another scoreless inning, then Jesse came on in relief and was absolutely nails, strikin' out fools and icin' bros and sippin' lemonade in the dugout in an old rocking chair next to his shotgun and his bloodhound (bloodhound name: Ryan Barko). We padded our lead to 12-7 before things got hairy again (of course) in the bottom of the 9th. The Cleaners pushed across a run and had two runners when Spoon took a grounder at second and seemed to tag a dodging Steve Kerwin to end the game. "He's out"
became "He was out of the basepath" became "Do you guys really want to win like this?" became "Okay, FINE" and we agreed to pitch to another batter. Boof promptly clocked a base hit, and as Jimmy took the relay from the outfield and the runner who was on second rounded third, I prepared for a collision with that legendary neck-tattooed puncher of cops: Louie Rappoport. No wait, it was Cameron, and the throw came in hard but slightly up the first-base line, requiring me to lunge balletically across home plate and tag him on his chocolatey thigh. BOOM! Second win of the season (fifth win of the season if you count the ones we fucked up and lost).
RYAN GARKO PLAYER OF THE GAME: Forgive me if I sound banal or calculated, but that was such a complete team effort that I feel this honor should be shared by all of us. Looking at the scorecard, there are so many multi-hit performances...YOU'RE ALL WINNERS. Except me, I just sort of drank your beers and ate your discarded sandwiches while going 1 for 6. They were delicious. Thank you all.
RYAN GARKO PLAY OF THE GAME: Remember that Martian tornado of red dust that kicked up in the third inning while the Cleaners were batting? How about Mark Moss's diving snag of that line drive to get us out of that nightmare? I'd also like to commend JPS for his outfielding, which included one of his classic acrobatic diving catches of a ball hit right at him, and that bomb in the ninth which he played perfectly. Also, there was a play at the plate. That was pretty tight.
RYAN GARKO DRIVE OF THE GAME: I'd say maybe it's the Molly twins, Crizzle and Moss, going against typecasting and bunting for base hits. I know we have a rep as a hard-swinging power club, but maybe small ball should be our new look?
RYAN GARKO SPIRIT AWARD: Welcome back, Andrew Gomez! You'll be cranking dingerz again in no time. Right now, you run like old people fuck: in a way that appeals to a small niche of the pornography market.
RYAN GARKO MARK MOSS OF THE GAME: Mark Moss
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