This wasn’t the game anyone thought it would be. After an inning-and-a-half, the score was tied at one. One Traitor was then heard saying, “We’ve got ourselves a game.” But another Traitor dug deep into the Rules of Softball and discovered that the object of the game is to score runs while preventing the other team from doing the same.
Close game early: Ali Lejlic nails Ash Samawi at home.
And so an eight-run 2nd inning, followed by six in the 3rd (with nothing much in between for the Sluggos) was pretty much all it took for the Traitors to snap up an unexpectedly easy win. With it, the Gatorades took early control of the Long Division.
Swing-and-a-miss: Orrince's hat is cool.
Oh yeah, the call. Prior to the game, the ump (Note: ‘twas I) gave pre-game instructions to the pitchers and captains of both teams. He told them to yell and scream all they wanted, to ridicule the ump as they saw fit, and not to hold back their emotions. The only line in the sand was to not interfere with calls made by the umps. Just don’t make calls, not from the dugout, defense or base coaches. Those calls will be overturned and will go against you for interfering.
Wouldn’t you know, in the bottom of the 4th, your Uncle Mude found himself leaning against Dante’s Furnace. Brooke Sartawi (Note: my wife) failed to get back to first in time and was doubled up on a fly ball. That should have been the third out of the inning, but someone (I’m not saying it was Orrince) yelled “Out!” from the Sluggos dugout before the base ump could make the call.
Not even close: Brooke Sartawi would have been out at first.
Why me? Anyway, the inning went on. (But it would’ve been nice had the Traitors been good sports and just given up an easy out.) The three runs the Traitors put up in that inning had no effect on the game, as the Sluggos themselves stated. Later that night, however, I could hear a bunch of guys at a poker game insulting every member of my family, in vivid detail, from clear across town. Guys, leave my maternal great-great-uncle out of this, eh? The only thing he associated with “soft ball” was labaneh.
After the game, but before the Mude Haters Poker Club convened, I witnessed an event that changed me forever. Sluggo Orrince fed his baby daughter a jalapeno. She cried and cried. He laughed and laughed. Why would he do this to his own adorable baby? Because he can. I will never cross him again.
On a lighter note, here's Kevin Rowlson, taking his punishment like a, um...man...sorta:
