They say in Victoria that if you do not like the weather, wait five minutes and you will get something else. The same could be said about our baseball. The boys had just played a remarkable four hour game against Victoria Blue just prior and with a two hour warm up, they then looked to this game. 7 innings max. A tight turnaround resulted because of the length of the first game. Their resolve, their fitness and their attitude was to be put to the test.
And another epic adventure of three hours it became. The wind howled like a demented marsupial but the sun broke through in an arm wrestle with the clouds.
Faced with what some doubting parents believed to be certain oblivion, our boys needed something special. A supportive lot our parents, who would choose a team of twenty if given the chance to be part of the selection committee. They and swimming parents - would number amongst the most committed in junior sport. The longer some have been around baseball, the more expertise they gather. Sometimes the expertise can be traded for opinions. Opinions are like bums. The crack can represent their accuracy.
Sure, after back to back wins, Western Australia were safe in the top echelons of the remaining sides, but they came out hard. No resting players or playing in the sandpit. A proud lot those sandgropers. They also present as pretty certain of themselves, a trait Australians and New South Welshmen - and women - love to hate.
For us, in tough times and with backs to the wall, the starting team had shifted: Musulin (catcher), Whatson (1B), Hunt (2B), Frew (SS), Myrmell (3B), Barbaro (RF), McCallum (CF) and Gorman (LF). Stevens started as pitcher. Pre match discussions about discipline with the bat in hand turned would be magicians into clinicans. Cooling temperaments and guiding the energy and enthusiasm.
Our start was dusty. 1-5 down and faces were longer than an Underbelly series. Walking batters is painful. It is like stepping on a nail. The rusty variety. Not life threatening, but they hurt. We scrambled but hit and clawed our way back to 4-5. Ben Hunt hit a majestic home run. There was life in the carcus yet. However, at 6-11, the carcus was about to be cut up and cooked on the team BBQ scheduled for later that evening. We were fast running out of pitchers. Our tournament hang in the balance. A possible double header would kill us.
Then suddenly Jordan Lndsay, a gangling lad from Kellyville who loves his icecream, was thrown the ball to pitch. He had not had a recent happy time in the field but he looked at ease at the mound. He threw a delightful variety of off speed stuff. He toyed with them, striking out three of their players who could not accept that a boy with a passion for the game, a boy who puts a lot of time into his game and loves it - was tormenting them with pitching they did not like. He threw a few wild ones, but that happens to a stack of newspapers in the shop too. The headlines were more impressive. He had given us hope and turned our fortunes around...seemingly without too much care in the world!
We edged back to 8-11 thanks to a remarkable home run from James Percival. It went long over centre field after two strikes and even surprised his mum whose photographic genius - well renowned worldwide - was found wanting at the key moment of exhillaration.
The lot of every parent at such times is intriguing. Pain wracks their face and strain builds when their son strides to the batter's box. Such angst was last seen when they were last in the maternity ward of the local hospital. Other parents cheer feverishly and encourage grandly, knowing their turn in the dentist chair awaits. It is support founded on many kilometres of training, many new bats and clothes imported from the USA, family holidays which are punctuated by sport and the ebbs and flow of sporting fortunes and misfortunes.
The team was being propelled on the strength of "team". No individual heroes in essence, but a unified, determined approach. At 8-11 Ben Hunt was summonsed to the mound. He had just got back from the train station after sneaking past the barber. As usual he is having some sort of tournament. Left all his baseball pants on his bed at home, but no problem, just wear the same ones every day. Even the wind did not ruffle his clothes. Like Lindsay before him, Ben threw variety and curve, change ups and wrong 'un's. He perplexed them.
James too had a solid game making two hits from three at bats. He had a measured and valuable input into the tempo of the game. He was safe in the bluster of centre field and was positive and enthusiastic. All this after some SEVEN hours of game time in a day - plus warm ups.
Ben Hunt then delighted the NSW crowd as he closed out the win. Of course James Percival took a blinder of a catch running backwards. He would snap up the fish that John West reject this lad. His cricket skills from school were well appreciated. He hadn't smiled that much in the whole tournament but had had some sort of game. A real gamer and fighter. A few photographs were already being emailed to his parents whose wonderful camera was rightfully forgotten.
We were belted by WA on Diamond 4 on Day Two and today we had come back. We had finally finished second in this level of the tournament. The sausages sizzled with more zest, the drinks tasted better and the vibe of positivity had returned.
Tomorrow we face Victoria Blue, yet again, for a place in the Grand Final. If our pitchers play it correctly, we could dominate them. Form tells us it will be closer than the lions at the old African Lion Safari, regardless.
Ben Tsui will return tomorrow after sitting out both games today, injured (can you believe?) by the springs of a dodgy matress at the team hotel. A spring in the step will be what we need instead tomorrow.
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