I had some briefs due today, and a contractor coming out to the house, and I had four hearings to cover for tomorrow, so I knew I was probably going to miss my daughter's semi-final playoff softball game. But no big deal. We knew they would be in the championship game next week, which I won't miss. Here's what I missed.
Our pitcher, who had given up two runs all season, surrendered eight in the top of the first. For the first time all season, we trailed. And before we would score, they padded the lead to 9-0. Then our girls started playing well. The pitcher got three of the runs back with a big home run. By the middle of the fifth inning, we had narrowed the gap to 9-6, but there were two outs, and only minutes left on the clock. And our #9 batter at the plate.
The clock matters because they stop the game at the end of any inning once the game goes over an hour and half, even if they haven't played a full game.
The other team stalled for time. They needed one out and two minutes and they were going to the championship game. They tied shoes. They called timeout. They had a conference on the mound. Dragged their feet. Finally, the umpire insisted that the pitcher take the mound and pitch. The batter stepped into the batter's box. The clock ticked down: 15 ... 14 ... 13 ... 12
Finally, the pitcher took the mound. At this point, the runners must remain on their base until the pitch leaves the pitcher's hand. Jump too soon and you're out. Our coach sent the runner on second base over to third. The ball was still in the pitcher's hand. "Yer out!" That's the third out. The clock ticks down 9 ... 8 ... 7 ...
Our girls run out to play defense. There will be a sixth inning, and we'll get three fresh outs. In the top of the sixth, we hold them. In the bottom of the sixth, we get runners on. Before you know it, we have runners on second and third, down just one run, but with two outs. Then we get down to our final strike. On a passed ball, our catcher steals home to tie the game. Now the winning run is at third. The next pitch is a line drive down the left field line. It looks good, but it lands foul. Still tied. Still two strikes. Our girls have to stop celebrating. The batter returns to the box, shaking with excitement and disappointment.
The final pitch is hit sharply to third. The runner bolts toward home. The third baseman looks at her, then throws to first. Late. We win it 10-9. The girls scream and squeal like we've never heard them before. The other team, every girl, cries. It is a perfect example of the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.
I wish I had seen it. But at least I heard it. Cell phones are a beautiful thing.
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