The day after our final game of the season is always a sad day for me (hmm, is it because I'm done playing or blogging?).
Our season ended with quite a thrilling game and if we were in Kohler, our score would have been the best.
We lost an 8-7 match filled with suspense and action. One of our heroes last night was Fortier. Interestingly, our man Steve is the only Cougar without a true nickname.
We have Trouter, Diddy, Stabber, Bobi, Martini, Philthy, Rads, Lil’ Rads, Hogs, JD, The Lip, The Joke Writer, Flandog and Diamond Dave. Heck, Oxer has two - JOx and Moose.
Steve does, in fact, have the unique honor of being the only Cougar that has a type of play named after him: an over the shoulder catch is called “pulling a Fortier.”
Well last night, trying to get dibs on a superhero nickname, Steve came to the field looking like Clark Kent.
With some coaxing, he finally took off his silly buttoned-up costume and, like the Man of Steel, he hit a moonshot into the sunset. He got our Cougar mojo back on track in the middle innings with his second homer of the year, tying The Joke Writer for the team lead.
Those middle innings were not without some pain though. Diamond Dave pitched an excellent game and smacked the ball around the field and getting on base just about every time at bat.
After one of his hot hits, The Dean of Bean (ok, he has a few nicknames too) was returning to first base after leading off and the catcher rocketed the softball (um, can you say misnomer) to first base and it battered our runner. Wilmette’s Renaissance Man caught the ball right in his choppers. Of course, it figures that the two medical professionals on the team were both out-of-network and could not come to the rescue.
Dave’s teeth put up a good fight and survived the incident (can we note that our man has been getting dental work for two straight years to get his teeth fixed - he visited the dentist today and all is well). In fact, he went back out there and pitched an excellent game and had a clutch hit in the last inning. He has given himself a new nickname: "Timex."
.jpg)
All season we played competitive and aggressive ball. Our play this year has improved markedly over the previous two campaigns. This year, we played a handful of one-run games, held the best team in the league to six runs and we almost knocked-out the Hitmen.
Our postgame food scored more than we did this year. We had all kinds of sausage, dips, meatballs, pizza, chips, and last night we topped it with softball sushi (guess who was in charge of food and what discount store he purchased it at).
.jpg)
Each week we arrive on the sacred land of Howard Park, or as Joe D. called it, the place where Moses lost his shoes, and we gather to express our totality (pretty deep, huh?) and then we go drink beer (yes, very shallow).
You see, sometimes softball is more than just softball. Sometimes it is merely a conduit to other activities. I mean, if you were to explain to your family that every Tuesday night in the summer, you were going to don green athletic clothes, hang out with other guys, drink beer and make fun of each other, your kin would put the kibosh on that.
So rather than outsource that decision making, we turned softball into a traveling party to which all families and friends are invited and have a blast. Well, I guess certain people are not invited because we have been scorned by three different neighbors this year.
What I would explain to these fuddy-duddies is that we only live once. We are simply trying to extract as much joy and fun as we can before the music ends. One of these days, Otto von Bismark will tell us to hang up the cleats.
Even if you disagree with our government following a Keynesian policy, you will agree with his quote, "In the long-run, we are all dead." (Yes, so far I have quoted the Old Testament and discussed two men who were born in the 1800's).
So, in the short-run, we will continue the party throughout the offseason. We will celebrate with our friends and families and paint Wilmette green.
And in nine short months we will give birth to a new season.
Great season boys!
Our season ended with quite a thrilling game and if we were in Kohler, our score would have been the best.
We lost an 8-7 match filled with suspense and action. One of our heroes last night was Fortier. Interestingly, our man Steve is the only Cougar without a true nickname.
We have Trouter, Diddy, Stabber, Bobi, Martini, Philthy, Rads, Lil’ Rads, Hogs, JD, The Lip, The Joke Writer, Flandog and Diamond Dave. Heck, Oxer has two - JOx and Moose.
Steve does, in fact, have the unique honor of being the only Cougar that has a type of play named after him: an over the shoulder catch is called “pulling a Fortier.”
Well last night, trying to get dibs on a superhero nickname, Steve came to the field looking like Clark Kent.
With some coaxing, he finally took off his silly buttoned-up costume and, like the Man of Steel, he hit a moonshot into the sunset. He got our Cougar mojo back on track in the middle innings with his second homer of the year, tying The Joke Writer for the team lead.
Those middle innings were not without some pain though. Diamond Dave pitched an excellent game and smacked the ball around the field and getting on base just about every time at bat.
After one of his hot hits, The Dean of Bean (ok, he has a few nicknames too) was returning to first base after leading off and the catcher rocketed the softball (um, can you say misnomer) to first base and it battered our runner. Wilmette’s Renaissance Man caught the ball right in his choppers. Of course, it figures that the two medical professionals on the team were both out-of-network and could not come to the rescue.
Dave’s teeth put up a good fight and survived the incident (can we note that our man has been getting dental work for two straight years to get his teeth fixed - he visited the dentist today and all is well). In fact, he went back out there and pitched an excellent game and had a clutch hit in the last inning. He has given himself a new nickname: "Timex."
.jpg)
All season we played competitive and aggressive ball. Our play this year has improved markedly over the previous two campaigns. This year, we played a handful of one-run games, held the best team in the league to six runs and we almost knocked-out the Hitmen.
Our postgame food scored more than we did this year. We had all kinds of sausage, dips, meatballs, pizza, chips, and last night we topped it with softball sushi (guess who was in charge of food and what discount store he purchased it at).
.jpg)
Each week we arrive on the sacred land of Howard Park, or as Joe D. called it, the place where Moses lost his shoes, and we gather to express our totality (pretty deep, huh?) and then we go drink beer (yes, very shallow).
You see, sometimes softball is more than just softball. Sometimes it is merely a conduit to other activities. I mean, if you were to explain to your family that every Tuesday night in the summer, you were going to don green athletic clothes, hang out with other guys, drink beer and make fun of each other, your kin would put the kibosh on that.
So rather than outsource that decision making, we turned softball into a traveling party to which all families and friends are invited and have a blast. Well, I guess certain people are not invited because we have been scorned by three different neighbors this year.
What I would explain to these fuddy-duddies is that we only live once. We are simply trying to extract as much joy and fun as we can before the music ends. One of these days, Otto von Bismark will tell us to hang up the cleats.
Even if you disagree with our government following a Keynesian policy, you will agree with his quote, "In the long-run, we are all dead." (Yes, so far I have quoted the Old Testament and discussed two men who were born in the 1800's).
So, in the short-run, we will continue the party throughout the offseason. We will celebrate with our friends and families and paint Wilmette green.
And in nine short months we will give birth to a new season.
Great season boys!
