Panda
Papago in September is a bitch. At least we were playing the late games and with the sun down and a slight breeze it was bearable. Mark, Swick and I had made a quick pit stop at Baja Red's on the way in from the West Side, so that helped a little, too. A new season, new shirts and the 29th annual coming together of what had evolved into Panda created that special something we kept coming back for year after year.
We ran into a team as old as us and tied our first game. I felt good. No walks and good command of a dropping curve in the late innings made up for my weak-ass bat and aching right shoulder. We came back to tie it up in the top of the last inning and then hung on. We've alwasys been slow starters.
Now it was the bottom of the last inning in game two with Panda chasing one. There was never a doubt. Big Joe tripled, little Kevin tripled and the score was tied. Sean and Fiore were intentionally walked to fill the bases. They were informed they still owed beer because under no circumstances do you walk in slowpitch. It looked like a smart move for the bad guys when Mark made the first out flying to short right center, Kevin froze at third and Sean almost ran up his butt. Sean was easy pickin's for out number two until Kevin deeked a move to home and their pitcher dropped his jock and we were safe all around.
Frank's night at second base had been brutal having twice been bumbed by baserunners who didn't slide, making numerous dives at hard hit balls that just didn't want to be caught and having dropped a couple of pop-ups, although neither was routine. His bat was mixed having gone deep for an inside trip yet also having hit into the only doubleplay of the night. On the first pitch he drove a sharp liner to center.
Swick got the win. Brian, Stick and Dave, who we often call Frank after Howard who played in the Show when some of us were kids, missed the games that night, but were still part of the fun as we criticized them for weak life priorities. Tony C hung a framed Panda on the dugout fence making Scotty's newspaper photo and my picnic plate of Panda past season's magic.
Several years ago Dave yelled out encouragement as we were making one of our patented comebacks, "There's no I in Panda." The feeling of our team, having been with us for years, now had a name. We are not comrads, not a team, not brothers and not family ... we are beyond those concepts ... we are Panda. It's not about softball because in the words of the old song, "cards never was the reason for the evening" ... it's about Panda.
We ran into a team as old as us and tied our first game. I felt good. No walks and good command of a dropping curve in the late innings made up for my weak-ass bat and aching right shoulder. We came back to tie it up in the top of the last inning and then hung on. We've alwasys been slow starters.
Now it was the bottom of the last inning in game two with Panda chasing one. There was never a doubt. Big Joe tripled, little Kevin tripled and the score was tied. Sean and Fiore were intentionally walked to fill the bases. They were informed they still owed beer because under no circumstances do you walk in slowpitch. It looked like a smart move for the bad guys when Mark made the first out flying to short right center, Kevin froze at third and Sean almost ran up his butt. Sean was easy pickin's for out number two until Kevin deeked a move to home and their pitcher dropped his jock and we were safe all around.
Frank's night at second base had been brutal having twice been bumbed by baserunners who didn't slide, making numerous dives at hard hit balls that just didn't want to be caught and having dropped a couple of pop-ups, although neither was routine. His bat was mixed having gone deep for an inside trip yet also having hit into the only doubleplay of the night. On the first pitch he drove a sharp liner to center.
Swick got the win. Brian, Stick and Dave, who we often call Frank after Howard who played in the Show when some of us were kids, missed the games that night, but were still part of the fun as we criticized them for weak life priorities. Tony C hung a framed Panda on the dugout fence making Scotty's newspaper photo and my picnic plate of Panda past season's magic.
Several years ago Dave yelled out encouragement as we were making one of our patented comebacks, "There's no I in Panda." The feeling of our team, having been with us for years, now had a name. We are not comrads, not a team, not brothers and not family ... we are beyond those concepts ... we are Panda. It's not about softball because in the words of the old song, "cards never was the reason for the evening" ... it's about Panda.
posted by Mo and Do @ 1:12 PM
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