The thunderstorms didn't hit, but instead we got hit with an absolute dog day afternoon of a doubleheader.
Instead of thunderstorms, we got 90 degrees and dusty and hazy and for some reason a traffic jam for the ages that slows me up, half the Oak Valley team, and 3 of my 12 players.
So my meticulously planned substitution and pitching charts are out the window and we have to start the 9 players we have. Luckily that does include a pitcher and catcher and we can put together a lineup. But Aly Loud, Pitcher C from my stat line a page back, says "it's too hot. I don't want to pitch."
I had her pencilled in to go 3 innings and then we would bring in our ace, Aliciana, who is warming up in center field. The bellyaching continues and finally I say, "OK, you go play center and Aliciana will pitch." It's game time and we have to go with the 9 players on hand. Just as the first pitch is thrown, Alyanna, Pitcher B who has walked approximately a million batters, arrives and will be added to the bottom of the lineup. My plan is, she isn't going to pitch at all tonight. Lucy, our big head-case backup catcher and outfielder, also saunters in, giving us 11. Aly Vee, our rifle-armed catcher never does show (although later i notice a text message from her mom at 5:28 p.m. -- for a 5:30 game -- saying she didn't 'feel well.' OK, whatever.)
Aliciana is a little shaky at the sudden starting assignment and gives up two runs in the first inning. Oak Valley walks five of the first six batters, Twin A drives in a couple runs with a single, then another walk re-loads the bases, and Ivy, our big and less-experienced LF-1B, pokes a fly ball that sails over the drawn-in right fielder. Ivy is slug-slow, but Oak Valley tries to nail a runner at the plate, Ivy chugs to third with a triple, and we have a 6-run max inning.
Aliciana regains her form in the second inning and strikes out the side. We come back with four in our half to go up 10-2 and things are looking awesome.
Now, Aly Loud says she can pitch. My original plan was for her to go three innings anyway, so I say OK. She promptly walks in three runs and things are starting to get tight, 10-5. Big Lucy, now in at catcher, sits down hard on a play at the plate and pulls a hamstring. Little Sasshy, who had done fine in her absence, gears back up and goes back behind the plate.
We're now in the top of the fourth but thanks to the walkathon for both teams, pushing up against time limit. Aly Loud is still walking, walking, walking. Even though Aliciana is available, I want Aly Loud to ride it out; we'll need her later in the season when Aliciana is on vacation.
Aly walks in three more runs and that's enough. I bring Aliciana back to the slab. Another run scores on a dropped third strike and then she strikes out two more to close it out. It's a win, but it was an ordeal, and now I have to worry if Aly Loud is messed up for good and our overreliance on Aliciana looks worse than ever.
In the second game, my plan is for Aliciana to go three innings (pitchers can go a max of six innings per day) and then bring in Aly Loud, who assures me she is OK to pitch another game. The first game ran long on time, and odds are real good Game 2 will be five innings at most.
Big Lucy is still gimping around the dugout. She had an ice pack on her leg for about a half hour, but now says she's OK to play.
The second game starts with Oak Valley as the "official home team" for scoring purposes, so we're up first, and do nothing. Aliciana strikes out the first two batters, walks two, the next is safe on an error, loading the bases, then strikes out another. The ball comes loose and Sasshy fires it down, a decent enough throw, to Ivy at first base. Ivy hasn't really ever played before, and here it shows; she waves limply at the ball as it sails by and rolls way way out to right field as the runners take off in a mass sprint.
For only the second time all season, we enter into a nightmare keystone kops sequence, with two or three more throwing errors, and before it's all done the batter has come all the way around on the mass-cluster. We're down 4-0. Aliciana's dad is smoking hot, sputtering stuff like "the worst shirt I ever saw, four runners score on a third strikeout, etc etc.," and it even spreads to Aliciana, who snaps at Ivy, "Why don't you catch the damn ball?," loud enough for the whole park to hear.
All right. I beeline out to the slab and call Aliciana and Ivy in. Ivy is already in tears. "I'm sorry I messed up," she says. I say to Aliciana, "Look, people look up to you, you're a very good pitcher and everybody knows it. You have to show leadership here."
"But I struck the girl out and they let everybody score." Ivy's even further in tears.
"Nope, nobody 'let' anybody score. Nobody is trying to make errors, they are all trying to do the best they can. They made some mistakes but that happens. Yeah, you struck the kid out and we should have been out of it, but that didn't happen. Now let's get this next kid out and get up to bat, OK?"
They're both kinda OK, I guess. So I tell Aliciana, "When I go back to the dugout, you guys shake hands."
"Why?"
"Because everybody in the park saw and heard you yell at her, so I want them to see that it's all over and you are OK."
"Does that matter?"
"Yes, it matters. You may need her to field a ground ball on this play so she has to know you trust her."
OK, so they do. And sure enough the next batter scuffs a twisting grounder down the first base line and Ivy has to scoop it up, then tags the runner at the last second. We're out of the inning down 4-0.
First up the next inning is Aliciana, who fouls a fastball hard off her left wrist. She's bent over and in pain. In this league the rule is, if you are taken out of the game you are done for the game, so she doesn't want to come out. She's still holding onto her wrist, so I order her to strike out on purpose so she can return to the dugout for an ice pack.
We score twice to close it to 4-2, but then when we get ready to go back out, Aliciana's dad says she can't go. OK, Aly Loud is back in. Hoo boy. A quick 6-run max inning and we're down 10-2.
We push across a single run to narrow the margin to 10-3, but then the walkathon continues. StarSis asks, "you think you want to go with Alyanna?" and I say, "we gotta hope Aly can battle through." Four runs score and it's 14-3. It's getting dark.
Aliciana's dad has wrapped up her wrist in an ace bandage. A couple doctor dads have looked at her and declared, "no obvious fracture, not much swelling, the ice may have kept that down, ice it overnight and go to the doctor in the morning if it's still bad."
We're up and we get a rally going. We have a couple of runners on and Aliciana's spot comes up. If she leaves the game, she's not only out of the game, but her spot in the batting order is an automatic out the rest of the night. So she goes up to the plate hoping to draw a walk, but is called out looking.
But we keep the rally going and actually push across seven runs, with the bases loaded as slugger Kaera strikes out to end the 14-10 loss in near-total gloom.
What with the hot and gritty and grimy weather, the parade of injuries, the on-field foulups and dissention, it was one of those splits that felt like about four losses. We're 3-3 and it feels like about 3-8.
I'm actually presuming Aliciana's wrist isn't really hurt bad -- if it is, we're really screwed.
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