Elias Perez is a Piece of Shit

I hate him

OH, SHIT: DEALERS WIN TWO IN A ROW, PROBABLY TOO GOOD FOR PCHL

A lot can change in two weeks. Just ask these people:

• Tsien Tsuen-hsuin, 105, Chinese-born American sinologist, professor, and librarian
• Dave Ulliott, 61, English professional poker player
• Hardijs Baumanis, 47, Latvian diplomat, ambassador to Lithuania and Azerbaijan
• Sergei Lashchenko, 27, Ukrainian kickboxer   

Two weeks ago, they were all alive. And the Dealers were looking DEAD AND BURIED!

Forgive me for falling behind and lazily trying to condense two games into one blog entry, but I'm basically too good for this shit now. Because of all the winning, I don't have to pander for ad-clicks with self-humiliating jokes about the Dealers; John gives me free drinks now.

On Easter Sunday, while our Cuban and Mexican players were busy stabbing nails into their hands and rubbing ashes on their foreheads, a skeleton crew of Dealers ventured out to Lowell Park after a drizzly morning to take on the decidedly pagan Oakland Beers. It was a great seesaw battle. It was 2-0, then 2-2, then 3-2, then 5-3, then 5-6 or something like that until the top of the seventh, when James of the Clan McConnell hit a two-run double to put us ahead. We were up 9-6 in the bottom of the seventh when the Beers scored two to make it 9-8. Everyone's panties were soaked with adrenaline and anxious urine. We scored an insurance run in the top of the eighth, and when Jimmy (who pitched one of the gutsiest games since Curt Schilling put fake blood in his sock) finally ran out of gas in the bottom of the frame, former Beer/prodigal son Justin Flowers came in to relieve. It was 10-9 Dealers with runners on second and third and two outs, and with his typical Vince Neil-esque rock'n'roll hubris, Flowers insisted on pitching to baseball bat-wielding robot Keenan Wells.

11-10 Beers.

With the bottom of the order coming up in the ninth, led by neurotic, sweaty choke artist Sam Bull, things looked shitty. Jameson Kern's first pitch bounced in the dirt. The Beers' catcher was forced to catch it in an awkward way that made his fingernail explode. Blood poured down his wrist. It was biblical. The game stopped as everyone looked on in sympathetic horror, except Crizzle, who tapped his watch and asked if we could please hurry it up. Umpire Brian Woods, in his usual capacity as self-righteous scold, told him to shut the fuck up. The catcher was bandaged and carted off.

When play resumed, Jamo threw me three more balls, Eric chopped an infield hit to third, and Jimmy-to whom this game truly belonged-hit his second clutch two-run banger of the game, giving us a 12-11 lead. We then scored four more runs on a dreamlike series of bloop singles from the top of our order-Mickey, Crizzle, Chris, Jesse? to make it 16-11. The Beers made a formal appearance in the bottom of the ninth, bowing out on a Mickey-Colin-Crizzle 6-4-3 double play. 

DEFENSIVE PLAY OF THE GAME: That foul ball to left field that seemed so far out of play that I wasn't even watching when Jesse, ponytail whipping in the air behind him like Secretariat, streaked across the greensward and made a breathtaking sliding catch that forever doomed him to playing left field. 

Honorable mention: Chris Thoms AKA CT AKA "The Scanner" throwing that one-hop SEED from center field to home plate that beat Butz by four strides but still resulted in a mini-umpiring-controversy when I made a weird little late curtsy-tag because I was having Louie Rappoport flashbacks. 

OFFENSIVE PLAY OF THE GAME: Jimmy's baserunning fakeout. Ya had to be there

PLAYER OF THE GAME: Jimmy, definitely, but I think Chris Thoms had at least five hits, and Mickey and Crizzle also went nuts at the plate. 

MARK MOSS OF THE GAME: Mark Moss

PART TWO: THE NOBLES VS. THE GUILLOTINE

Bill Sandberg

RECAP: We beat the Nobles 23-7. HAHAHAHAHA 

Shit, we just fucking stomped 'em. Do we really need to go over who did what? This isn't a 29er blog. 

189 DAYS UNTIL CLOSING DAY: DEALERS HONOR RABBIT-LOVER WILL CORNYN'S MEMORY BY SHITTING THEMSELVES LIKE FRIGHTENED RABBITS

RECAP: How was your winter vacation? I spent mine eating a lot, watching some of my close relationships disintegrate, listening to radio dorks try to diagnose the 49ers' shititude, and not playing baseball. Apparently a lot of you also did at least two of those four things, but before the Chinese show trial begins, let's have a brief positive prelude. We opened the season with a nice dedication to Will and a ceremonial first pitch from Lana. John then made us all stand at attention and listen to Jimi Hendrix's famously interminable rendition of the national anthem. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Andrew Gomez not caring about America, but I didn't let it ruin the moment.

As far as the actual game, I had the good sense to take notes so as to bolster the rich detail and accuracy of my poetic recollections. After scribbling in my notebook for a couple of innings, I looked down and it was insane:

Mickey Thoms led off the game with a hard smash up the middle that bounced over shortstop Brian Huey's head, and we all politely remarked to each other that it seemed like a good omen. Spoon advanced him to second with a chopper, and then Crizzle pulverized a Kevin Biskar somethingball into left field for a ground-rule double. Wheee! We loaded the bases and had a chance to jump out to a big early lead when I popped out to first base to end the inning. FART. David Blanco led off the bottom of the first, and you'll never guess what he did: he crouched in the batter's box like a guilty piece of shit and WORKED A WALK! Brian Huey had a sac fly, one of their crackers had a two-run single, and it was 3-1 after the first inning. We came back with two runs in the third on a nice rally from the top of our order, with Mickey, Spoon, Crizzle and Gomez singling consecutively. Down 4-3 in the fourth, with top-tier starter Rafael Rangell in to relieve Kevin Biskar, we heroically scored four two-out runs on RBI singles from Jimmy, Crizzle and Spoon, and clutch walks from John and Mickey. The News answered right back with four runs of their own, three of them coming on a two-out bases-loaded double from somebody I still can't remember. I texted Blanco and he said it was "Daniel Malament, I think." I texted Gordon Popadiuk and he said it was "Huey, probably."

The News are literally so boring they can't tell themselves apart.

We tied it right back up in the top of the fifth on a Colin walk, a Sam single and a Ryan RBI fielder's choice, and it looked like we had an exciting shootout on our hands.

And then...nothing good happened for the rest of the night. The News scored about fourteen unanswered runs and someone was shot to death near the Crocker Amazon playground, mere hundreds of feet from where we were playing. (http://www.sfgate.com/crime/article/Man-fatally-shot-near-Crocker-Amazon-Playground-6165963.php) Coincidentally, Andrew Gomez left the game around this time in a noticeably frustrated mood. 

Seriously, the rest of the game was terrible. If you want to learn more about it, go hang out at this place: http://moxybeergarden.com/ and ask one of them. 

ITEM!  The Plays of the Game section will now be enhanced by the sharp-witted color commentary of our new, racist Crocker Amazon mascot, Hyun-Mi the Can Collector. Herewith:

DEFENSIVE PLAY OF THE GAME: Talented landscaper, responsible father and normally capable third baseman Eric Rosen leapt and caught a line drive at second, putting a respectable sheen on an otherwise difficult night.

"YOU MAKE AH GOOD CATCH JEWBOY BUT YOU BIG DONKEY AT THIRD YOU NOT SMOKE FUNNY WEED NEXT TIME"

DRIVE OF THE GAME: Friendly neighborhood meatman Chris Adams's ground-rule double in the first.

"OH RED DRAGON YOUR ARMS ARE SO BIG YOU TAKE ME TO OUTSIDE LANDS THIS YEAR?"

PITCH OF THE GAME: Jesse got woman-faced power hitter Gordon Popadiuk to lunge at a perfect low and outside fastball on a two-strike count. He hit a weak grounder and I can't remember if we botched the play or not.

"PRETTY LADYBOY HAVE TO PROTECT THE PLATE. WE 
HAD TO PROTECT PLATE IN D.P.R.K. WHEN SOLDIERS COME TAKE OUR FOOD. I BET DEALER CATCHER PROTECT PLATE WHEN HE EAT FOOD LOL"

PLAYER OF THE GAME: I'd say Crizzle and Jesse embarrassed themselves the least. Honorable mention to new boy Colin for getting on base three times and doing some admirable mop-work on the pitcher's mound.

"VROOM VROOM BIKER BOYS I BET WHITE SLUTS LOVE YOU LONG 
TIME WHEN YOU NOT JERK EACH OTHER OFF"

MARK MOSS OF THE GAME: Mark Moss is currently on vacation from the vacation he calls his life, drinking wine next to a pool and not answering his phone or emails as part of his smug yuppie "technology cleanse." It's almost time to retire this award.

"BEST PLAYER ON TEAM TURN OFF PHONE SO TEAM CAN'T FIND HIM. 
HA HA, DEALERS BIG HOT POOPOO MESS. YOU FINISH BEER?"

NEXT GAME TDB @ OAKLAND BEERS

ALL APOLOGIES