History is Re-Written in NW DC; Softball Team Surprised, Drunk

August 10, 2006 - Home Field in Ghetto NW, Washington DC - History was recently re-written by a veteran beer-drinking/softball-game-losing team Bases Loaded who clinched a 5th inning win against notorious dominators, 12th place ranked team Natural Disasters today in the nation's capital.
"Our expectations are just about as low as the cloud ceiling," sighed Khlamad, the Bases Loaded (BL) catcher and grillmaster as he poked a chicken and garlic sausage and shooed away rats with a pair of kitchen thongs. When up at bat, innings are often pretty short for BL, as 3 outs are generally made before you have time to mustard your dog or refill your beverage. And so started the game, which featured many spilled beers and unforced errors in the field and thankfully only one post-game appearance by resident crackhead "Motormouth." Things started to turn however, a proverbial page was turned by bottom of the batting roster. Coach A fired a fine double to center field using the infamous Hammer bat with poo donut, a BL asset which made a recent re-appearance after a month of sitting in a Honda Civic Hybrid trunk. Coach was followed by two new ringers, who completed a poor late-season showing of BL regulars. Despite their lack of insurance and official spot on the roster, Barnabe "Frenchie" Schwartz and "Moustache Ride" Ethan did some significant damage to the Natural Disaster's comfortable lead.
And that's precisely when the BL fielding followed suit, and the tide turned with the weather. Some great catches by Johnny T in the outfield, and the soon to be 29 year-old K-lo at second, despite continued poor pitching and failure to throw to first by coach A. She was quickly relieved by Moustache Man and the proverbial BL freight train gained speed. "I don't think they're shotgunning enough beers," exclaimed former Natural Disasters head coach Smashley, "seriously, are these kids sober? That's so not fair" as she kicked her glove down in disgust.
BL, unaccustomed to simoultaneous success both at bat and in the field, continued their quest with reserved, nervous enthusiasm. Ass Ass coach Erika Wilson clutched her koozy and stared blankly into the distant ghetto of O street. Newest recruit Harriet Nash, visibly shaken from her recent poop scooping muttered with disdain, "I have to pee. Again." As the sun started to set on a tie game, a neon yellow ball was pitched, and thrilling base running and catches ensued. Frenchie redeemed his earlier over-run at second base by whacking a nice double. K-lo's previous "I thought you said you knew how to play?!" demands were now a moment of the past. "Bad Luck" #13 Annie got to wear the patriotic hat as a reward for a stunning double, and Unce Phatt scored the first sombrero home run of the evening as the Natural Disasters offense and defence quickly crumbled like a stale organic Trader Joe's hot dog bun.
But the final game-defining, exhilarating highlights of thursday's game came when Irishman Fletch caught a dangerous pop fly in right field holding a amply mustarded dawg in one hand. Lacking the available limbs to throw the ball in, Fletch darted to third with unprecedented speed,just barely thwarting a tag-up run to home. Clearly, BL held the upper hand of the short game, and one could imagine that hand was holding a spicy sausage, a beer and a shot of goldschalger. Quickly scrambling for last licks, BL had several chances to name a "hero." Coach A stepped up to the plate and missed, while Barnabe followed through with a double, overcoming the threats from the dugout and fear of cheese-eating monkey failure; defining the French capacity to play American ball.
Ultimately, the game was sealed by a knock-out unbelievable soaring whack to the parking lot/toilet beyond left field fence. The Natural Disaster's relunctantly accepted their fate as the ball momentarilty exited the Earth's orbit and landed somewhere far, far away. This reporter, whose heart was flooded by a tsunami of joy and tears did not note the final score of the game, but these minor details remain quite simply, insiginificant compared to the momentous evening's events. A big home plate group hug and donning of the celebratory sombrero, replete with shots of goldschlager closed a heart-warming chapter in the amazing saga of a humble softball team defined by persistence, courage and the finest, cheapest canned beer.