You Got Mud On Your Face, You Big Disgrace

Ah. I do love the smell of fresh-cut grass in the evening.

But does it smell like victory?

So I give Aaron his v2 b-day presents (of course, both of them go over gangbusters. Why? I rule is why.) and we get out there. We don't quite have enough girls for a co-ed team, but the practice period goes good. Everybody's loose--hell, Leslie's singing "Girls Girls Girls" and I'm wondering where all my ones are--and practicing throws and stretching. I stow all my speech.

And then, of course, they give up a homer via error in the first at-bat of the game.

But something awesome happens. The girls play defense, making grabs. And a five-run first.

Soon, we're up 7-2 and I'm clearing off the mantle.

7-3 because a homer off a tree deep. I still say Lizet should've caught it. Damn tree. What good have they ever done for us?

Oh, by the way, our opponents? Despite all the defensive brilliance? Come all the way back to tie.

And yet, I don't worry during this at all. Call it karma, kizmet, fate, et al, but my feeling is "Oh. So we win in the (metaphorical) bottom of the ninth, then."

Three batters in, we do.

Victory party!

Afterparty!

Oh, no, I'm drunk and high again! Good thing I don't have to work in 11 hours, or am going to the block party to...morrow. Whoops.

I'm Butch Rosser, bitch(?)!

This post is brought to you BAH: "Deny" by Default