2007 Highlights

Monday, July 30, 2007 Informers’ Spirits, Opponents’ Scores, High

Robbed of starting pitching, outfielders, infielders and managerial help, the Informers took to the field Tuesday AND Wednesday nights last week looking for their first win of the season. Sadly, they found only two teams waiting to devour them like that tiger in Apocalypse Now that almost eats Chef. Despite the ensuing ugliness—combined losses by the score of 80-22—the Informers remain a plucky group. Drew Alfgren, filling in for the vacationing M.J. and the battered Shawn, took over the team lead in strikeouts, recording eight K’s over the four games. He continues to swing the bat softly, but effectively, and is now hitting .448 for the year. Even better, his mustache bought drinks for everyone after the game.

Run support was deleteriously hard to come by despite a .495 team average, but everyone contributed all the same. Eric continues to make Tony Gwynn look like Tony Danza as he went 11 for 13 with a double, four runs and one RBI. Not far behind is Brad, who went 7 for 8. It has often been said in the Informers dugout that the only thing between them and a win is the D.C. transit system, which often prevents Brad from making it to the games on time. Often we see him scrambling out of his car in the top of the third inning, rankling the umpires as he struggles to put on his shoes and take the field.

Brad’s belated arrivals were welcome because the Informers have been woefully undermanned of late, and increasingly prone to painful reminders of time’s passing, and the frailty of the human form. Down to just seven players against the Mollinators, the Informers flirted with Dame Forfeit before Brad’s arrival. This left Jimmy Klucar to man both third base and shortstop. Only three outfielders were employed. Eventually, the Molinators were forced to contribute two of their best players to the Informers lineup, a request they graciously took up. Both newcomers contributed a gaggle of hits until they realized they were sabotaging their own team.

The Informers became similarly hard pressed for employee-power versus DNR when Laverta went on the DL after collecting one hit versus the Molinators. On Wednesday Mandy Meloy went down with a knee injury in the first inning. Later in the game her husband Mike collided with a baserunner at third. Contact lenses, glasses, and apologies flew as their bodies became more twisted than Alberto Gonzalez’s Congressional testimony. Mandy was then forced to return to the lineup as catcher while Mike gathered his wits. It was a tender moment in so many ways.

Not to be outdone as husband-and-wife tandems go, Alexa and Jon made their first appearance of the season and quickly contributed. Alexa recorded several outs at second base, plus a single to left field. Jon quadrupled that number, spraying four hits to all fields and nearly amputating DNR’s second baseman with a hard slide in the second game. Best of all, their two children were in attendance, providing moral support to a frequently exhausted squad. When he wasn’t trying to cover the entire left side of the infield, Jimmy Klucar was gathering RBIs against the Molinators. He had four on five hits against the Mollinators to complement Tierney’s eight singles and graceful outfield dives.

Well, the season is fast drawing to a close. Though the Informers remain winless, hope has far from expired for their first victory. Today’s game brings optimism that their opponents, the Dysfunctionals, will live up to their name. Playoffs begin next week, and the Informers hope to charge into the postseason like a veritable Light Brigade. With better results.

Monday, July 16, 2007 Informers 5.0: Still Looking for Answers, Balls Shawn Brown roped a line drive into deep center field and moved like Ichiro Suzuki as he eyed the first inside the park grand slam in recorded Informers history. As Gimps’ outfielders wrestled to find control of the ball and make a throw to home plate, Brown took a nasty tumble on the third base line, then collided with Mark Armacost’s outstretched bat. As he fell forward to collect the glory of his fourth RBI, he struck a pose akin to that of Willem Dafoe at the end of Platoon, then gathered up the remains of his knee and prepared for a long evening of deep heating therapy.Brown is reportedly in stable condition and recovering in his Baltimore home. An MRI has been scheduled and he is currently on crutches. His potential loss is a serious blow to the Informers, both for his .650 batting average and his skills as a catcher/bindery technician. After another valiant effort in a 21-11 loss in the first game of Monday’s doubleheader, the Brownless Informers were quietly lobotomized by the neurology school’s Gimp squad in the second game, by a score of 27-13.

In spite of their 0-10 record, the Informers continue to post some gaudy statistics. Eric “Mr. Hydration” Rector continued to pad his stats by going 5 for 7 Monday night. He is now batting a whopping .720 and has started to receive threatening phone calls from Pete Rose. But his true love, apparently, is the ballet. After failing to chase down a foul ball along the first base line, Rector treated all in attendance to a display of frolicking pirouettes that left many in awe. Patrick Wilcox continued his success at the plate and in the outfield where he continues to lunge leopard-like after anything that comes in his path. When not ministering to the wounded Brown, Wilcox was seen Patrickflashing skinned elbows in the outfield, throwing baserunners out from his knees, and scaling tall buildings in a single bound. He also collected four doubles, including one which was thought to be a home run until the umpire decided to rewrite all known laws of baseball and rule it a two-bagger, a decision which drew more boos than Ann Coulter at a Pride event.

Brad, Mark, Drew, and Tavon all continue to sport plus .500 averages, with Drew scoring three runs on two walks and one hit. Were it not for the wind resistance caused by his illustrious mustache, it could have been a triple. Tavon nearly caused a sandstorm as he slid home in the first game, boldly capitalizing on a late throw by the Gimps. He finished the night with three hits in four at-bats. Newcomers Mandy and Mike Meloy also got in on action, as Mike went 2-5 with a run scored, and Mandy gathering two walks. However, her coiled stance at the plate and fielding ability would suggest that more is in store from her.

Perhaps the most memorable plate appearance was delivered by M.J., who hit a soft single to left field in Game 1. After confirming that everyone else had witnessed it, she spryly advanced all the way to third base where she confided to me that her training program at Fort Meade is paying dividends. Defensively she had her hands full. When the Gimps were not firing RPGs over the chain link fence, they were often crowding the plate and smiling back at the Informers pitcher with innocent and mischievous grins. M.J. did receive help from her infield at times. Tierney made like Queequeg, spearing a number of line drives. In between, she got well acquainted with Gimp baserunners daring her to tag them. Fortunately no fights broke out this time. Lafaithea showed similar skills at shortstop. After taking a hard liner off the ankles in the first inning of Game 1 she shook off the pain and went on to toss out Gimp after Gimp. No word yet on how purple the bruises are.

Though it may not be obvious by the 190 runs allowed in 10 losses, the Informers seem to improve nearly every game. Next week brings the Mollinators and DNR. And four more chances to gain their first win of the season. If present trends continue—and Wilcox isn’t victimized again by arbitrary ground rules—the Informers may crawl their way toward victory. In much the same way Shawn Brown crawled home after his valiant performance Monday night.

Monday, 2 July, 2007. For Whom the Ball Rolls.

He lay flat on the brown, pebble-strewn floor of the field, his glove outstretched, and high overhead the wind blew cries of joy in the tops of the oak trees.

“Am I the man?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember catching it.”

“It was a thing to see, you stretched out in the air.

“And I caught it?”

“Yes, you caught it. It was a thing to see.”

Patrick Wilcox got up, brushed the dirt from his crimson Informers t-shirt and grey sport shorts, examined the abrasions on his arm and legs, and moved back into center field to continue his career game. He was a home run short of hitting for the cycle, had three doubles, scored four runs and batted in four more. The Informers were fortunate he was with them.

The Informers didn’t lack offense, either. Six players had four or more hits, including Drew “gimpy” Alfgren, who went four for four in the first contest and Shawn “lumpy” Brown, who had six singles on the night and has now tied Eric “mr. hydration” Rector with 11 singles on the season. Tavon “the rocket” Jackson had a break through game, with five singles in seven at bats, and was a terror on the base paths. Also on the base paths were Mark “the poet” Armacost, who scored three times and Tierney “wildcat” Lyons with a single, two walks, and a nice .429 on-base percentage.

The fielding was strong, especially at short stop, where Camara “fearless” Shackleford backhanded scorching grounders like Ozzie Smith, and center field, where Patrick “the man” Wilcox was a slipping, sliding highlight reel. And no discussion of defensive highlights could exclude Lumpy Brown tagging the runner out at home after a laser throw by The Man Wilcox.

There were some funny moments, too, including Wildcat Lyons’ base stomping, chest thumping, near-brawl-inducing play at second base and Persia “the sandman” Drummond stepping into a runner coming home and putting him down like a sack of potatoes.

In the end, it wasn’t enough. The Informers battled Yellow Fever as long as possible in the first contest, but were overcome by 10 runs in the bottom of the sixth inning. They lost 18-12. The shelling continued in the brief, 17-1 second contest, despite the white masks they wore in an effort to keep the Fever at bay. When it was over, they walked to their cars in the waning summer light.

. Tuesday, 25 June 2007. The Informers Reformed.

Super Bowl 34. The 2001 World Series. The second game of the Informers-Ball Fumblers match-up last night, June 25, 2007. In a hard fought struggle that lasted a full seven innings and may have etched its place among the greatest games ever played we librarians were narrowly edged out, 15-14, by a group of Pharmacy school students who patiently measured out each run as if it were an Oxycontin pill destined for Rush Limbaugh’s weekend villa. As a gray Baltimore haze slowly settled down upon us like chipped beef gravy we took the field after a tough 15-1 Game 1 loss and quickly jumped on top of the veritable Pharmacy squad for a six run lead. Amazed looks were shared all around when we realized that we actually had a lead to protect. And protect it we did. For a time. Behind a highly impressive debut pitching performance from M.J. and another solid relief effort from Shawn that may have the Orioles proffering a contract in the near future, we charged ahead to leads of what seemed like 8-2 and 13-12. I’m still a little unclear on the details—apparently, dehydration clouds the mind. The point is, for the first time all season our bats came alive. Shawn seemingly recorded a hit every time he came to the plate, as did Brad, who continues to collect inside-the-park home runs as if they were a private stock of the cocoa beans over which he labors every day in D.C. (Seriously, the chocolate is top notch.) Eric continued to thwack away at the plate, collecting four hits and a walk in between his time at first base, often spent digging errant throws out of the dirt or chasing them into the absurdly nearby woodland area. Tavon got into the act too, with a walk and a triple that saw him gallop around the bases faster than you can say “Strained Quadriceps.” Speaking of quadriceps, Tierney nearly decapitated the opposing pitcher as he made a desperate slide into second base, and racked up two walks and an RBI of her own before succumbing to a late-game injury. Although statistical information continues to exist somewhere in the mythical realm, we can safely assume that Camara leads us all in fielding percentage after an evening spent diving all over the infield, dirtying her uniform, and recording a slew of outs. Lafaithea may be close behind after settling into a groove at shortstop, then outfield, then second base. Next week she’ll be starting at striker and finishing at quarterback just to cement her utility status.

Patrick continues to be the team leader in center field, stampeding his way to all manner of pop fly and line drive, and beaming more lasers than an irresponsible optometrist. As noted, M.J. impressed at pitcher, befuddling a number of Ball Fumblers with called strikes and a steely gaze that seemed to say “Don’t mess with me. I control your access to Planta Medica and the Journal of Controlled Release.” She was key in recording our first 1-2-3 inning of the season. But the evening’s best moment goes to Laverta, who powered a hit over the outstretched infielders’ hands in Game 1 and hustled down the line for a single. In so doing, she seemingly doubled our hit total from the last time out against the dreaded PsychoRelics, and proved that we are indeed improving as a team.

Congratulations to the Ball Fumblers for the wins and for their class. Ultimately, they anesthetized us, but did so with Oregon-style dignity (and a “home run” from their third baseman that left many of us wondering if Jeffrey Maher was about to appear, but hey….). Nevertheless, it was an impressive effort for us. Word has it that we face Yellow Fever next Monday. If we play like we did yesterday, we should feel good about our chances to win our first game of the season. Til then, keep your Icy Hot close at hand.

. Tuesday, 19 June 2007. Remembrance of Balls Past.

For a long time we thought we wouldn’t play. Sometimes, as the clouds rolled by and the lightening and thunder sounded in the distance we would find ourselves jerked awake with the thought that we would play after all. When the Psycho-Relics finally moved down to the field we reached for imaginary bats and balls and gloves, and remembered the sweet taste of marzipan. But things took a peculiar turn, and we were on the field in an eerie silence, the home team in a game late-in-the-starting, with the air closing in around us still pregnant with the passing storm. I remember Shawn, pitching away. Pitching and snagging and pitching again. Methodical. Alas, the ‘Relics bats rang with a tone of victory from the start, but there was always Shawn, pitching. And the fielding, with each inning past, became more astute; more focused. There in the waning light was Mark, running through soaked grass and snatching foul balls from the air like moths. And Lafaithea, moving like a cat at shortstop, the simple advice of bending her knees creating her over as Ms. Pac Man. At one point, in the silver whisper of biting flies, I heard the ‘Relics first base coach–a man who it appeared could bench press at least two of us–say man, that girl’s for real. There were many small victories on this day, and not a few pulled muscles. The former included some great play by our outfielders. Brad was fleet of foot, as even our Aunts and Uncles had to agree. Patrick was deep in center, moving about like a Spartan on the battlefield, waiting for an opportunity to hurl it home. Adnan, a cricket player by birth, battled the strangeness of the leather glove, but came to embrace it’s strange unfamiliarity in time to make a spectacular grab in right center. Brash talking Drew ‘gimpy’ Alfgren was steady in right until pulling a quad and giving the position over to the Brothers Quick–Rob and Tavon. The infield was steady, with first Diane and then our illustrious leader Tierney at second. Shortly after taking the field, Tierney proved that her hand was not only better, but that she was able to leap gazelle like over scorching grounders, and, at one point, though my memory may have been clouded by the thick, gray air, I thought I saw her do a one-handed handstand to avoid certain bruising. But she and Lafaithea were a force at short and second, putting out more than any other players on the field.

Sometimes, in the garden, I would remember strange visitations known only as “hits.” They did not come often, but there was always great rejoicing when they came. I, myself, experienced one first hand. But the one I remember best, for it was the longest and the sweetest, was by Brad Stefsman. It came when spirits were still high, but waning. A long, slow arching creature that left the ‘Relics scampering through the field like rabbits. While Brad played the coyote, loping around the bases to raucous fanfare.

Looking back now, after all this time, I remember the ‘Relics as mighty foes, but kind. They showed class and humility, and encouraged us in our play. All the same, they put us to bed like naughty children, 15-0 and 11-1. And without any marzipan. The after party was, after all was said and done, certainly and surely to be a wingding. Tired, cranky players were greeted by our friends, and by grilled meats and vegetable matter. Sodas flowed and salads were served on what was certainly someone’s best china. Tiny cakes of carrot were served as well and, while not as sweet as the marzipan of my youth, made us smack and smile. At least one call of “double-stuff” was also heard on this occasion. Our spirits were not even dampened by the park constable, of Three Billy Goats Gruff fame, who informed us–the informers!–that there was to be no open flame in the park. And that we had to move our cars. The general consensus was that she needed…but I digress. We finished our meal, along with the superlatively supportive Dean of Activities from far and away, who seemed to enjoy the camaraderie, and went out separate ways.

Ah, those memories are as sweet and supple as a strange yellow fruit. Yes. And as that heady day of gladiatorial combat fades, we move towards the next opportunity like a sticky French child. In the sweetness of the time past, with the extraordinary power of a couple of Irish Whiskies under my belt–opiates are hard to come by these days–I leave this entry with one final thought…who knew M.J. could pitch?

. Tuesday, 12 June 2007. First two games of the season.

The field was dusty and the sky gray, but we didn’t encounter lightning nor a single raindrop. However, the Peristaltic Rush brought the thunder with grounder after grounder, scoring a total of 52 runs on the night. The Informers were still smiling when it was over, ready for more next week. Shawn lit up his stats with two singles, a double, and an RBI on the evening. Mark ripped a two-run homer and gets the down & dirtiest award for, well… did we get that on film?

A special thanks goes to our adoring fans who cheered us through the threatening storm:

Anna (kudos on a fine cookout)
Fanuel
Julie & Heather (yay watermelon!)
Paula & Angelica
Stefanie & Burt
Steve (thanks for the potato salad and burger flipping!) & Dale
William

and thanks as always to our trusty scorekeeper, Teresa, who gets us up to bat on time.