Looking out the window after a long hard day of his one and only class of Children’s Literature. Smith thought to himself there is no way that they are going to be playing ball tonight. Looks like rain, and that’s a mighty drive to Kincardine. Just thinking about that beautiful cold case of Budweiser in the Admiral fridge from 1955 that was in the basement was almost enough for him to say forget it.
Then a small break in the clouds became a bit larger. Hopping in the Eighty-Eight Oldsmobile. *before we move on here I would like to state that this is a stupid name for a car. Especially if it’s not made in 1988. It is very confusing.* Smith didn’t know what was about to be bestowed upon him. On the way to the game you could feel something magical in the air, and it wasn’t passing by the KFC in Wingham.
Arriving at the game you saw the usual suspects hanging around their cars having beers and smokes. None of them were fans, these were players. After exchanging our usual high-fives and jokes about other team-mates mothers, we decided to get to work. Even during the warm up I could feel the lucid delivery of a sharp lefthander. Like a young David Wells getting to work. Our catcher came up to me after the warm up and stated the following. “Fuck Hencey, your breaking ball is fucking sharp.” *Hencey was a former nickname of mine. It basically means slow because of alcohol or drug use*
During the first couple of innings of this game, everything was moving fairly normal. Smith was chuckin’ at a smooth 58mph. Curve ball was looping, legs were flailing, and everything was working. The third inning came around, and Smith was losing his control a little bit. That’s when he noticed something. The umpire was drunk. He was calling strikes that were 3 to 4 inches inside or outside. That’s when a lean lefty capitalized. Two-two was locked in. He pounded that zone for two straight innings. Kincardine hitters had nothing to hit, and could do absolutely zero about it.
Fifth inning rolls around. The umpire sadly has sobered up. Hencey had to start pitching again. Locking back in, he started to feel a bit of an uneasiness. The curveball wasn’t quite as sharp, and he was going deeper into counts. This is when the perfect game was lost. Walking a batter with two out, and then having a screamer caught by the short-stop was the way that this inning ended. Needing to relax, Smith goes up into the stands. He pulls out an Export “A” ultra-lite to relieve the stress. The Legionnaires put up a four spot that inning. They developed a big lead. All that needed to be done was to pitch another two innings. At this point Kincardine realized that they were being no-hit. It was time to bear down.
Sixth inning is where the magic started. One out walk, and then a 3-2 count against their cleanup hitter. He steps into a full-count offering. Drills one right at the shins, Smith contorts his body in a way that has never been seen before and manages to catch the line drive between his legs on the back hand. Falling down he noticed that the runner is well off the bag at first base. Attempting to pick him off while doing an army roll….. The ball goes into the first base foul area about 10 feet away from the first baseman. But what an effort. Smith gets out of the inning unscathed.
7th inning. The fog had rolled in from the lake. Smith strikes out the first two batters on greasy curveballs. Kincardine is down to their final out. You can barely see in the sky anymore, the fog is unbearable. This last batter needs to be k’d or it could be trouble. 54mph fastball is popped up on the infield. Nobody can see it. There’s chaos, then all of a sudden the first-baseman is screaming “GOT IT, GOT IT!” The ball lands safely in his glove. Pandemonium breaks loose on the field. After the hand-shakes at the conclusion of the game, venturing back to the parking lot, and lighting a few smokes; everybody knew that this day was going to go down in history as the greatest day in Legionnaire history.
The catcher walks up to Smith and asks. “Hencey what the fuck are we doing now?” Smith smirks and says “Let’s have 3 cheeseburgers from mickey d’s, and fuck off back to MoDean’s.”