Last Night's Line: No-Win Situation

Yup.  Dix N Chix are still looking for that elusive win.  Of course, I'd love for my baseball games to be as lush and crisp and green as the picture above, but alas, it's never like the pictures.  In reality, we play on a handful of fields that are poorly maintained, at best.  At least the field last night had benches and bleachers to plop our asses down on.

The picture above is how I envision myself when I'm out there, in a romantical(it's my new word) way.  Hell, we both possess the same number.

Again, there is this thing with this team.  We have the potential to be good.  But we don't tend to wake up until the late innings, when the game's already out of hand.  I think last night's score was a very competitive 14-7, but that alone is deceiving.  At one point, we were on the losing side of 7-0, then compounded to a 14-2, before we realized that we were in a ballgame.

I went 2 for 3, with some cheap singles.  The only ball I hit with authority was a lazy fly to left.  The swing is under construction.  I took some hacks at the fastball cages last week and made some adjustments.  The big home run hitter on our team referred to a dude on Youtube, maybe 5 foot-fuck-all, hitting home runs with consistency.

"All about swing mechanics," he says.

Before the change in my swing, I was asking him what he was doing while he was in the batters box before clobbering the ball.

"I'm thinking about everything.  My wrists, my grip, where my feet are, where the bat head is placed.  Everything."

And you wonder why my swing got messed up?  Talking to team's slugger butt fucked everything.

The fielding was relatively okay.  We held the opposition a few times.  We played some fundamentally sound baseball for a few innings, but the errors through the overthrows, getting burned in the outfield, and just good hitting from the opposition did us in.

I made one out on a liner to shallow left.  I also took an awful route to a grounder to the outfield, and the ball squibbed through my legs.  The picture below illustrates.

Next week we'll be better.  Unless we're not.

NOTES:
- If anyone knows that YouTube guy's name, please scroll to the right and email me.  God knows I could use the direction.
- Just finished The Art Of Fielding by Chad Harbach.  Got through it in a day and a half.  As I keep telling my wife, "I don't read anything except baseball books and vintage porn."  I don't count gay erotica as porn though, so sorry Chad Harbach, you only met 1 out of my 2 requirements.  Good try.

Last Night's Line

Team lost 15-5.  At the beginning of the game we finally received our shirts.  Baby blue with 'DIX AND CHIX,' in hot pink.  At least now we can say that we lose in a colourful manner.

I went 0 for 2, lining out hard both times.  My swing is fucked.

Caught a ball hit on a line, and I nonchalantly got it.  I made an outfielder's motion to indicate the outs, and some guy on the other team called me Colby.

I prefer Cletus, myself.

My Team This Year(with Last Night's Line)

So, I'm weeks into my new slo-pitch team.  It's been years since I made MVP of the league in Hamilton.  I was so meticulous with stats then.  Now, I don't even bother.

I know this year, I've hit a grand slam, 2 triples, lots of legged out singles.  This year, is about fun.  I stress 'fun,' every game, since losing isn't at all part of my makeup.  And all we do is lose.  I think we're 0-8 this season.

I'm patrolling either right or left center in the outfield, and can run anything down.  When I first started playing at a late age, I didn't want anyone to hit it my way.  I prayed at every at bat that nobody would hit the ball to me to expose the flaws of my defence.  I really prayed until I tried to catch a lazy fly ball with my chest.  I remember playing the rest of that season with what felt like some cracked ribs.  These days, I can't wait for chumps to hit it my way.

Last night's game was the worst night to play, with the day's heat just lingering on.  It just felt like my cleats melted on the grass.  I made a boneheaded groundball play where it went between my legs.  A lazy fly ball that I got to, trickled off my glove.  I finally made a play for the year with a line drive putout.  I felt like Cletus Rasmus at center, making it look routine, which I may say, is not a bad thing.  The mercy rule was put upon us, 20-5.  Yuck.

I'm also a pesky baserunner.  I run hard at everything, because the coach on my first team would have my head if I didn't hustle and use my speed on the basepaths.  Last night, I slid hard at 2 bases.  The guys on the other team liked the intense way I played.  I'm the only one out there getting dirty.  Maybe I should have hooked up with them.

 My batting swing this year is totally fucked.  I'm usually a straight line drive hitter, but this year I feel totally out of shape, and it feels like I'm not hitting with any authority.  There's this guy on my team that hits huge home runs, and after talking with him and what he goes through in his head at every at bat, my swing is as worse as ever.  He recommended that I quit going the opposite way and start extending my arms and pull the ball.  The results are brutal.

Anyway, dear readers, I'll keep you posted.  This is supposed to be 'fun,' right?

Sweet Dream . . .

I made it.  I was freaking out on Kelly Johnson and maybe Luis Perez over the major league level showers.  I was jumping up and down in front of them and they were giggling.  I was in awe.  

My role was to cover Colby Rasmus at center.  I was shagging flies with him out on the field and was amazed at how much ground he covered, his glove was a magnet to all those fly balls.  It was impossible for me to do what he does.  Just last week, I misjudged an easy fly at softball.  Nevertheless, John Farrell said, "if Colby's out, you're in," which was a great boost for my confidence.

After warm-up, the guys decided to have a round of  'bieber my balls,' where we all gathered in a circle and knee'd each other in the crotch, crane-style.  Extra points were given to the guys who got both knees in.  Jason Frasor was my partner, and he was easy to bieber.

After my turn, I realized that it was close to game time, and I was out of uniform.  I was sitting on a bench in front of the lockers watching Colby Rasmus hurriedly getting dressed.  Right beside his locker was mine, getting restocked, I just sat there marvelling over my last name in blue and white.

The "Buy Me A Scotch!" Button Is Active!

Alright, you rich motherfuckers!  Time to show me some love!

Click on the 'DONATE,' button on the upper right hand corner to buy me my drink of choice, Scotch.

I'm well on my way to becoming that lousy writer that you've become familiar with.  Contributing to my alcoholism will cement that path.

Do it quickly!

I'm thirsty!

Download This! Go Where the People Dance w/ CD Cover!

go where the people dance 

beach house - myth

keep shelly in athens - our own dream(blackbird blackbird remix)

m83 - kim and jessie

moon boots - bills to pay

jupiter - mama used to say

lana del rey - blue jeans(moonlight matters remix)

childish gambino - heartbeat

pacific! - hold me(breakbot remix)

midnight magic - drop me a line(holy ghost remix)

metric - help, i'm alive(the twelves remix)

gamble and burke - let's go together(grum remix)

housse de racket - chateau(punks jump up remix)

download here:

mediafire

FACTS:

- I was a heavy metallist in the early 90's, before Kurt Cobain obliterated my people with his shitty Fender Jazzmaster.  I had to bury my metal tendencies deep down and began to appreciate technically shitty and very lazy indie rock(remember Pavement, anyone?).  I went through all kinds of transformations and progressions, but kept my metal roots.  Moving into electronic music was an organic transition, since indie rock and all of it's shittiness was becoming very boring, and was trying to shift in that direction anyway.

- The Moon Boots/Jupiter/Lana Del Rey section is awesome.  I'm enjoying the use of Virtual DJ.  The song to song transitions are starting to get less sloppy now.

- I went to one of the last Disco/Punk's that I will ever attend, and DJ Nights played something so killer, that I had to ask him who the fuck it was.  Breakbot.

- Disco/Punk no longer exists in Hamilton.  My wife and I are looking for another one.  Any suggestions?  We are trying to follow the title of this mix.  Reply below or e-mail me.

   

From the Electric Youth Show . . .

"You buy this shirt!  I usually wear mine with a nice pair of jeans and boots!  You'll look totally swag!"