 | Your Junk my Happy Zone | |
| by Brandon Corbett |
During Saturday’s 3-2 series win by the DeLoppes over the Squirrels the members of WSEM present were met with a moment of transcendence, one which fell just short of magic. Following twenty-three shutout innings pitched by Cliff Comstock and Austin Bischoff, the stars began to align after BJ Hoppe’s two-run home run in the bottom of the first inning put the DeLoppes ahead in the deciding game of the series. One by one the dragonflies broke their flutter and set down on bat knobs, back stops, and the sporadic taller blades of grass missed by the grounds crew. The gaggle of young toads, which had hopped around the field more often that day than Austin Bischoff kicked out bases on hard slides, now stood at attention. Friends, they felt that something big was about to happen.
Carl Coffee cast his eyes over the field, squinted, took a deep breath, cocked his bat, and stepped up to the plate for the Squirrels. A missile from the right hand of Chad Hoppe followed, passing mere inches from Carl’s head. The peanut gallery shouted oohs, aahs, and one distinct hell yeah! baby! The ball came to rest on the other side of the drainage ditch twenty yards away. Carl gave no reaction.
He then waved his bat in front of his hips, and unfurled two ponderous questions in succession: “you gonna throw the ball? You scared?” Chad stood perplexed, a hundred thoughts running through his head: was Carl taunting the veteran pitcher? Was the blistering sun getting to Coffee? Is Coffee really not better when served hot? Chad shook his head, steering his concentration to not let Carl get into his head. Hoppe then eased through his steady wind up, released the ball from a three-quarters arm slot, and dropped a patented “Broken Zipper” just under the zone; it could not have missed by more than half a centimeter! Carl Coffee stood statuesque. “Oh my God! How could you take that!” Bobby Hoppe exclaimed from right field, with the sentiment echoed by members of both teams. “Take what?” Carl deadpanned. Chad’s jaw dropped on the mound. Down by two runs, Coffee really was trying to show him up out there!
Hoppe stopped playing around. He stiffened his delivery, started a hard slider up and in, which cut sharply, like a German army through France, drilling the upper-inside corner of the zone, and actually sent splinters flying. Chad just stared a cold stare from the mound; so effective it actually got cold in Death Valley for a second, until Carl came through with the quote that restored temperatures to normal: “Wow! I really shouldn’t try to play without contacts in! That pitch sounded amazing; wish I’d been able to see it!” Laughter mixed with the restored croaks from toads and wisps of dragonfly wings, and below it all you could hear the beginning murmur of a legend coming to life:
“and look who's coming up. All year long, they looked to him to light the fire. All year long, he answered the demand; until he was physically unable to see tonight with two bad eyes: the only thing, getting through Chad Hoppe. And with two out, you talk about a roll of the dice. This is it!”
He then waved his bat in front of his hips, and unfurled two ponderous questions in succession: “you gonna throw the ball? You scared?” Chad stood perplexed, a hundred thoughts running through his head: was Carl taunting the veteran pitcher? Was the blistering sun getting to Coffee? Is Coffee really not better when served hot? Chad shook his head, steering his concentration to not let Carl get into his head. Hoppe then eased through his steady wind up, released the ball from a three-quarters arm slot, and dropped a patented “Broken Zipper” just under the zone; it could not have missed by more than half a centimeter! Carl Coffee stood statuesque. “Oh my God! How could you take that!” Bobby Hoppe exclaimed from right field, with the sentiment echoed by members of both teams. “Take what?” Carl deadpanned. Chad’s jaw dropped on the mound. Down by two runs, Coffee really was trying to show him up out there!
Hoppe stopped playing around. He stiffened his delivery, started a hard slider up and in, which cut sharply, like a German army through France, drilling the upper-inside corner of the zone, and actually sent splinters flying. Chad just stared a cold stare from the mound; so effective it actually got cold in Death Valley for a second, until Carl came through with the quote that restored temperatures to normal: “Wow! I really shouldn’t try to play without contacts in! That pitch sounded amazing; wish I’d been able to see it!” Laughter mixed with the restored croaks from toads and wisps of dragonfly wings, and below it all you could hear the beginning murmur of a legend coming to life:
“and look who's coming up. All year long, they looked to him to light the fire. All year long, he answered the demand; until he was physically unable to see tonight with two bad eyes: the only thing, getting through Chad Hoppe. And with two out, you talk about a roll of the dice. This is it!”
