Thursday, October 3, was our travel day. Numerically, it was Day 152 of our Marco-Polo-inspired journey. But unlike Marco and his quest to find silks and spices from China, we set our travel sights on Mesquite, Nevada, and a warm-up softball tournament. You blog-groupies may remember the Rox Over-60 softball team hadn't played together since winning the Senior Olympic gold medals back in Cleveland in July. I know, it seems like eons ago.
Really?!
I swear I haven't seen vehicles turned loose like that since I first started driving back in the 60's. I was excited, even though AB1 has a suggested driving speed of 62 MPH. And while I may well have been physically going 62, deep down in the dark crevices of my mind, I was blowing by all those Fords and Subaru's at 87 MPH.
The Mesquite tourney started on Saturday with two games. There were 6 teams in our pool, so we would play each of them over these two days and the team with the best record would be declared the champion.
Our Saturday started out inauspiciously. I attributed that to a lack of playing together and lumbago. We won one and lost one. Disappointing, yes, but we were still in the running.
On Sunday, as symbolic of the lack of intelligence regarding the way they do things in Mesquite, we had 3 consecutive games scheduled at 8:00., 9:15, and 10:30 am.
Hey, does anybody remember we're old guys with aching joints and questionable eyesight?
Just askin'.
Well, we sucked it up and commandeered the field. The first game was a 23-17 win over some team from I don't know where ... Zanzibar, maybe. We followed that up with a 25-19 victory over a strong Florida team. The final game was tight, but we held on and prevailed 18-15 over the boys from Washington. That made us 4-1, but it wasn't until we approached tourney headquarters that we learned that we were indeed the champions based on having the best record. It was the 3rd year in a row we had taken the Mesquite tourney. And the tourney hierarchy, in their usual penurious manner, awarded us not trophies, not championship T-shirts, not prize money ... can you guess what we did receive?
That's right, caps. And they were not championship caps, either. Apparently, every team got the same caps. Nice job, guys.
With hardly any time to sit back, have a beer, and enjoy our "caps," we were all back on the road for the 50-mile trip to St. George, Utah, home of the legendary Huntsman Senior Games. These World Senior Games have been around since 1987. The event has grown steadily, enormously since the first year when it was just two old guys playing tiddlywinks. It is now the world's largest annual multi-sport event for seniors (50+). This year they were expecting over 10,000 athletes competing in 26 sports. And, they don't award "caps."
This year's was extra special for us since it gave us another captive audience to whom we could sell my book (Have I mentioned my book before? It's called "The Fastest Gun in Hollywood: The Life Story of Peter Brown" and is available at all fine bookstores and in my garage). The book-signing party had a few interested parties, but the margaritas were loved by all.
Now, time to sober up and play some ball.
Within 3 months, my roomie had transferred to Xavier, but I continued on with the S.I. wallpapering of the room. The roommates came and went as did my living arrangements over the next 45 years, but one thing stayed the same: every week the newest issue of "Sports Illustrated" made its way into my mailbox.
At least it did until today.
Since we're now going to be on the road in AB1 six months of the year for the next decade, I could tell that I wasn't going to be able to keep up with the reading of my favorite magazine. So, I let the subscription expire, much to the wailing, begging, and crying of myriad S.I. telemarketers. After 45 years and 2,340 issues (all of which are shelved neatly and chronologically in boxes in the rafters of my garage for God-only-knows-what reason), today would be the first day since my acne-period that I would no longer be a subscriber. It was like a death in the family, although without the creepy mortician trying to up-sell you a more expensive casket.
OK, back to softball.
Team gifts quickly forgotten, we spared no mercy on the wine merchants from the coast. We beat them easily 19-6. But the gift was all anyone talked about after the game. That's an example of the camaraderie the Huntsman games fosters between teams. Looking back, I probably should have offered them a book. Have I mentioned my book yet?
At 12:30, we took on the Glacier Kings from Anchorage, Alaska. We thought it would be an easy game ... and we obviously thought wrong. We were actually losing 19-14 going into the top of the 7th (last) inning. But we're a "never-say-die" kind of team. We're also a "Can I have fries with that" kind of team, but that's neither here nor there. We erupted for six runs to take a 1-run lead, then held on for all we were worth to hold them scoreless and take a hard fought 20-19 win over the best (and probably only) Alaskan team we had ever played. Incidentally, our rally was the start of a pattern for us in this tourney about which you'll soon learn more. Note: The Glacier Kings went on to win gold in the "A" division (4th flight) of the Huntsman Games.
Huntsman Tuesday is always a light day as the games' staffers are involved setting up the gala opening ceremonies to be held that night. As such, we always only play one game, usually somewhat early, on Opening Ceremonies Tuesday.
Just as with the guys from Alaska, so too did we then think we might have an easy game today with Brantford Nissan from Ontario, Canada, just north of Toronto. The question was, "Can those Canadians boys really play ball?"
Soon enough, the answer was, "HELL, YES!!"
After 6 innings, we were down again just as we had been to the Alaskans. The score this time was 14-10. My question to myself was "Can we catch lightning in a bottle two games in a row?"
And my answer was, "Is a bear in the woods Catholic?"
I think you can see where I'm going with this.
Well, in a 7th inning that the likes of which had never happened before to any of the ancient ballplayers on my team, a group of 13 guys who on the average had played 100 games a year for 45 years, well, NONE of them had seen an inning like this one. We batted around the order once ... then we did it again ... and started on our third time through the order. Runs were streaming across home plate like water over a New Orleans dike. By the end of the inning, we had plated no fewer than TWENTY-FIVE RUNS! The Canadians were so upset, they were housebroken.
Final score: Rox-35, North of the Border Whipping Dogs-14.
Note: The fine Brantford Nissan team went on to win gold in the "AAA" division (2nd flight).
As is our custom on Opening Ceremonies Tuesday, the team met for dinner at the wild game "Gun Barrel" restaurant and totally ignored the O.C. Some year I will have to attend. Afterwards, team general manager and spiritual leader Jim Erickson and wife Carol joined us at the mammoth Tuacahn outdoor amphitheater to see a wonderful performance of "Thoroughly Modern Millie," and she was ... thoroughly modern, I mean. Tuacahn is a force of nature, situated immediately against the backdrop of the area's red rock mountains. It's an incredible venue that you have to see at least once in your lifetime.
After everybody plays three games the first two days at the Huntsman, the 53 teams are then seeded by ability into seven divisions (Major, AAA, AA, A, B, C, and You've-Got-to-Be-Kidding) and each division then plays a double-elimination tournament starting Wednesday to determine gold, silver, and bronze medal winners in each division. We were placed in the major (top) division. There is also a "Major-Plus" division, sort of a super-human-hybrid-of-seniors supposedly with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal seniors. But as you'll see, the lone Major Plus team, Northern Express, had their problems with the lower rated teams. That's why they play the games.
To make up the four-team Major division, they took us, two other major teams, and Northern Express. In the first winners' bracket semi-final game Wednesday, we took on the strong BRL team from Salt Lake City. As was our style that week, we made it to the top of the 7th trailing 27-17.
I bet you can see what's coming.
Maybe not.
Our first two batters made outs. One out to go. The fat lady may not be singing, but we could hear her warming up out back.
And then another incredible Rox inning occurred. Yes, the never-say-die Rox scored 11 times after two were out to take the lead 28-27.
Deep breath!
Unfortunately, we should have held serve for another 25 runs. BRL came back and got the two runs they needed to hand us our first Huntsman loss in two years, 29-28.
In the losers' bracket, we then took on Major Plus androids Northern Express from Antelope, California. As a Major Plus team with no one to play, they were in our Major bracket just playing exhibition. In their entire history at the Huntsman Games, they had never lost even one game ... until now, that is. In this game, we actually led 22-20 in the top of the 7th, but we didn't let that bit of good fortune go to our heads. We went for 13 more runs. Northern gamely came back with 10, but it wasn't to be.
Final score: Rox-35, Formerly Undefeateds-30.
On Thursday, October 10, our final day at the Huntsman, we needed to beat Handiland Flooring in order to get back to the championship game. This time we were the home team, so, of course, when we trailed in the last inning 24-19, we knew exactly what we needed to win.
And sure enough, 7th inning lightning struck yet again, the winner being a walk-off base-hit to center by some ne'er-do-well author who shall remain nameless in this blog to win for the Rox, 25-24.
Soon enough, the answer was, "HELL, YES!!"
After 6 innings, we were down again just as we had been to the Alaskans. The score this time was 14-10. My question to myself was "Can we catch lightning in a bottle two games in a row?"
And my answer was, "Is a bear in the woods Catholic?"
I think you can see where I'm going with this.
Well, in a 7th inning that the likes of which had never happened before to any of the ancient ballplayers on my team, a group of 13 guys who on the average had played 100 games a year for 45 years, well, NONE of them had seen an inning like this one. We batted around the order once ... then we did it again ... and started on our third time through the order. Runs were streaming across home plate like water over a New Orleans dike. By the end of the inning, we had plated no fewer than TWENTY-FIVE RUNS! The Canadians were so upset, they were housebroken.
Final score: Rox-35, North of the Border Whipping Dogs-14.
Note: The fine Brantford Nissan team went on to win gold in the "AAA" division (2nd flight).
As is our custom on Opening Ceremonies Tuesday, the team met for dinner at the wild game "Gun Barrel" restaurant and totally ignored the O.C. Some year I will have to attend. Afterwards, team general manager and spiritual leader Jim Erickson and wife Carol joined us at the mammoth Tuacahn outdoor amphitheater to see a wonderful performance of "Thoroughly Modern Millie," and she was ... thoroughly modern, I mean. Tuacahn is a force of nature, situated immediately against the backdrop of the area's red rock mountains. It's an incredible venue that you have to see at least once in your lifetime.
After everybody plays three games the first two days at the Huntsman, the 53 teams are then seeded by ability into seven divisions (Major, AAA, AA, A, B, C, and You've-Got-to-Be-Kidding) and each division then plays a double-elimination tournament starting Wednesday to determine gold, silver, and bronze medal winners in each division. We were placed in the major (top) division. There is also a "Major-Plus" division, sort of a super-human-hybrid-of-seniors supposedly with powers and abilities far beyond those of mortal seniors. But as you'll see, the lone Major Plus team, Northern Express, had their problems with the lower rated teams. That's why they play the games.
To make up the four-team Major division, they took us, two other major teams, and Northern Express. In the first winners' bracket semi-final game Wednesday, we took on the strong BRL team from Salt Lake City. As was our style that week, we made it to the top of the 7th trailing 27-17.
I bet you can see what's coming.
Maybe not.
Our first two batters made outs. One out to go. The fat lady may not be singing, but we could hear her warming up out back.
Deep breath!
Unfortunately, we should have held serve for another 25 runs. BRL came back and got the two runs they needed to hand us our first Huntsman loss in two years, 29-28.
In the losers' bracket, we then took on Major Plus androids Northern Express from Antelope, California. As a Major Plus team with no one to play, they were in our Major bracket just playing exhibition. In their entire history at the Huntsman Games, they had never lost even one game ... until now, that is. In this game, we actually led 22-20 in the top of the 7th, but we didn't let that bit of good fortune go to our heads. We went for 13 more runs. Northern gamely came back with 10, but it wasn't to be.
Final score: Rox-35, Formerly Undefeateds-30.
On Thursday, October 10, our final day at the Huntsman, we needed to beat Handiland Flooring in order to get back to the championship game. This time we were the home team, so, of course, when we trailed in the last inning 24-19, we knew exactly what we needed to win.
Thus, the gold medal game arrived. It would be our 3rd trip to the finals in the last three years (2011-silver medals; 2012-gold medals). Once again we cut to the 7th inning. Once again, we're down, this time 24-17. And familiarly, once again we score a bunch, crossing home plate seven times.
It would not be enough.
The curse of being the visiting team was too much for us to overcome. BRL quickly got the only run they needed in the bottom of the 7th to take the gold medal, 25-24.
We were proud of our silver medals and were happy with our efforts at the plate. In our last 5 games in St. George, we averaged 29.2 runs per game; we scored 62 runs in those five games IN THE LAST INNING ALONE! Not bad for a bunch of old guys.
So, the Huntsman Games are over for another year. We'll need that time to recover. On Friday, I went and watched two of our players, Robbie and Dan, play for an Over-65 team from Michigan as they won their division. Those guys are real sadists: they played double the amount of games we did in the same amount of days ... AND they're 65 years old!
OK, the last day in town was Saturday. Time to rest up, battle our colds, and reflect on the 21st anniversary of flight 373.
Flight 373?
Yes, every year on October 12, Diedre and I celebrate our survival of flight 373 from Cincinnati to Minneapolis. You see, on this date in 1992, we were keeping to ourselves while flying home from a business trip (Diedre's business; my general fooling around) when the pilot came back toward all of us passengers with a worried look on his face. The head flight attendant then herded us all up to the front of the plane and gave us directions on how to survive a crash.
SAY WHAT?! SURVIVE A CRASH?!
It seems they were getting a light flashing in the cockpit saying the landing gear was not operable. They weren't sure if that was true, or if the light was just going all kitty-whompus. So we were all going to find out which it was, walking down the terminal to do battle with baggage claim, or going head-first into the tarmac and eating a lot of gravel.
As Diedre and I sat there hand in hand, the attendant came to me and asked me to perform her duties "in the event she became incapacitated."
Again ... SAY WHAT?!
Well, as you can tell, ghosts can't write blogs, at least not very well, so we must have made it home alive. But on this date every year, we take the time to remember how lucky we were that day and to remember to love each other and enjoy life to the fullest, no matter what.
I'm just sayin'.
Now, back to the serious side of being funny. We'll be leaving bright and early ... well, maybe just "early," tomorrow morning for Kanab, Utah, and the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. That place is incredible.
See you there.
It would not be enough.
The curse of being the visiting team was too much for us to overcome. BRL quickly got the only run they needed in the bottom of the 7th to take the gold medal, 25-24.
We were proud of our silver medals and were happy with our efforts at the plate. In our last 5 games in St. George, we averaged 29.2 runs per game; we scored 62 runs in those five games IN THE LAST INNING ALONE! Not bad for a bunch of old guys.
So, the Huntsman Games are over for another year. We'll need that time to recover. On Friday, I went and watched two of our players, Robbie and Dan, play for an Over-65 team from Michigan as they won their division. Those guys are real sadists: they played double the amount of games we did in the same amount of days ... AND they're 65 years old!
OK, the last day in town was Saturday. Time to rest up, battle our colds, and reflect on the 21st anniversary of flight 373.
Yes, every year on October 12, Diedre and I celebrate our survival of flight 373 from Cincinnati to Minneapolis. You see, on this date in 1992, we were keeping to ourselves while flying home from a business trip (Diedre's business; my general fooling around) when the pilot came back toward all of us passengers with a worried look on his face. The head flight attendant then herded us all up to the front of the plane and gave us directions on how to survive a crash.
SAY WHAT?! SURVIVE A CRASH?!
It seems they were getting a light flashing in the cockpit saying the landing gear was not operable. They weren't sure if that was true, or if the light was just going all kitty-whompus. So we were all going to find out which it was, walking down the terminal to do battle with baggage claim, or going head-first into the tarmac and eating a lot of gravel.
As Diedre and I sat there hand in hand, the attendant came to me and asked me to perform her duties "in the event she became incapacitated."
Again ... SAY WHAT?!
Well, as you can tell, ghosts can't write blogs, at least not very well, so we must have made it home alive. But on this date every year, we take the time to remember how lucky we were that day and to remember to love each other and enjoy life to the fullest, no matter what.
I'm just sayin'.
Now, back to the serious side of being funny. We'll be leaving bright and early ... well, maybe just "early," tomorrow morning for Kanab, Utah, and the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. That place is incredible.
See you there.
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