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Why'd he have to be so short? (Some word usage)

So, as you may or may not know, I have the luxury of playing the great American past time of baseball. So, to any interested, I'll be sharing some of my personal "experiences" (as you could say) playing both on my Prep Team and in some collegiate ball.

Note: I use fake names for most of my teammates with a few exceptions, most opponent names are real, as are the nicknames. This is mostly for privacy reasons, but I do keep my real first name in there.

Also, who knew baseball players swear a lot?


Why is he so short? I mean really, the kid is like 6 inches my junior. "Ashby" is what I think they called him, but his jersey said "Perkins". Who the hell names their kid Ashby anyways? "Ashby Perkins"? No way this kid plays real college ball right? He's like what 5'6" 130 pounds soaking wet?

Crap. Caldwell "Shorty" Kinch heard Brandon and I talking about how short the kid was. Brandon thought he was a High School kid, maybe he's right. Hopefully he's right.

Batting 7th, Thirdbase. Hell yea.

1st Inning

"Son of a fucken bitch! Fuck that scrawny, twig legged asshole! Fuck!" Were the words that were screamed by Billy Kline as he stormed into the dugout like a twister. Tossing his helmet into the rack he screamed a torrent of profanity laced screams at the kid as he worked his way through the #2 hitter, good old reliable, Kody Colton.

"Kline! What he be throwin?" Brandon asked, munching away on some sunflower seeds.

"Some sort of fastball-curve bullshit." He said watching Colton ground out to the second baseman.

Colton coasted off the base path and entered the dugout with a wide 'lovin life' smile. It was weird how he didn't care when he got out. Kline would have gotten pissed and probably punch a kid. Colton, however, just stands there and smiles. It's odd. Coach Mathers told me he came from a 'respectable' family as he put it. He was one of those 'doesn't ask for seconds at an all you can eat buffet' types.

With only three pitches he blew past Gerke, all swinging. Man, he must of heard me call him short.

3rd inning

Have I ever told you I hate leading off? I really, really hate it. I enjoy waiting in the on deck circle, collecting my misspent thoughts and rambling off on how well I'm doing in my classes. Leading off just ruins it though. You have to go up there unprepared and worried. You're cold from standing out in that godforsaken April sun. Makes me want to take a long walk of an arctic pier.

Ashby sat down Shorty, Brandon, and "Benny" Quinn with relative ease. Two ground outs and a backwards K. God smite me now. I watched the kid pitch, counted "U-C-L-A" and watched the scrawny kid toss a relative strike with ease. He tossed it on L. Amateur. I peered at him again and counted "U-C..." fwip "L-A" Again? Maybe this kid is in High School.

I shot the breeze with the ump as Ashby took his last pitch, signaled to the Catcher and unloaded a divine curveball before ducking. The Catcher tossed a dirtball, swore and squatted in his teeny, little square.

"PLAY BALL!!!" The blue shouted as I strode with confidence to the plate. The best thing to do is to act confident, unorthodox, and stay in a routine at all times. I waited as the crowd screamed at me. I waited and waited and waited and waited as Ashby came set, looked both ways, and began his motion.

I'll be modestly humble here and use a simple metaphor for how this at bat went. Basically I did as well as trying to shove a couch through a doorway.

It only took Ashby Asshole four pitches to send my slap happy ass to the bench. Two of the strikes were not even my fault. Ump called two "painters" on the corners for strikes. I guess short people stick together.

"Good start to the year Kyle, still planning on battin 400?" Nylander, our extra (and I mean like 65th string) backup catcher/infielder, quipped up from the bat rack.

"Still planning to bat sub 100 like last year Ty?"

I smiled as I picked up my glove. It was the second time the word "asshole" had spewed from one of my teammates mouths.


Man, I wish you guys could have been there for that play. It was to beautiful to describe using English words.

Prosím, použít svou fantazii na to, jak velkolepé jsem. Vertrauen Sie mir, ich weiß, Sie können nicht Deutsch sprechen, aber es war erstaunlich.
אתם חושבים שכל זה לתרגם גאג הוא מצחיק נכון? אני חושב שזה מצחיק.


I've always wondered why a group of guys named Caldwell, Brandon, and Benny could be so useless.

By this point, the crowed knew we had lost and had mostly dispersed from the sunsetted stands. I counted for myself. Maybe 60 people left? I mean the whole Hoyt clan was still here, that probably takes up around 20% of that number. Why do lefties have so many kids?

Nicky Baby was pissed. Nick Mullins, (as he prefered to be called by) had let up three easy runs in relief of K. Wallace. A lucky double play started by Colton saved probably 5 more. He paced into the dugout off the mound and whipped his glove like his heater, straight, slow and hittable. 6-0, currently getting no hit. Perfect time for a comeback eh?

I waltzed up to the plate and playfully kicked dirt at the catcher after he signaled the pitch. I watched Asbhy pitch on "L" once more and took a ball.

"STRIKE!!! ONE!!!!"

The fuck? I looked back at the ump as he flashed the strike sign. I glared back to Asshole Perkins as he wound up and tossed a change into the dirt.

1-1 eh? I like that count. Easy, simple, you can get a hittable pitch, it's also easy to get a ball too. I mean it's rea--

"STRIKE!!! TWO!!!"


I fouled off the ensuing curveball as Coach Mathers screamed an order at someone, I think it was directed at "Not Ben" Quin.

1-2 now? Expect fastball, sit on the curve. C'mon Kyle you've done this. No High School can put it against you.

The curveball figuratively put me on my ass. I huffed back to the dugout bat and helmet in tow. Out #1 for the second time today. What a time to be alive.

Now, I know I haven't went into full detail on a lot of my teammates. Colton's a nice guy, Kline's a dick, Hoyt's got a big family. But something really bad happened to a really genuine guy.

Brenton Gutiérrez, a solid lefty set up guy, and a exotic food connoisseur, ended up breaking his forearm with a pitch and is now out indefinitely. I actually delayed the post so I could see what happened to him. But this could potentially end Brenton's career, it just sucks.

Brenton just unloaded what could have been a low 90s heater into the stands then let out a Bloody Maryesque shrill. Jeffy immediately stood up as he watched Guti crumple to sod in extreme pain. I rushed to him as he screamed about his arm. Mathers spoke to us as Richie Malie, our back up infielder, loaded him up in his car and rushed him to the hospital.

Out... indefinitely. Man, that word just hurts to say let alone type.

9th Inning

You ever been no hit before? Me either, but beyond that the team waltzed into the 9th down not only by a bucket's worth of runs but our moral was being shot and stabbed before our very eyes. Thank our Holy Father that Gerke walked in the 8th or this game, which is only comparable to the Boston Massacre, would hurt just that much more.

Ashby had a no hitter through 8 innings. 10-0? Against "seasoned" college players. Bah Humbug man. Bah Humbug.

Bennett "Not Ben" Quin took over for our Second Baseman Benjamin "Benny" Quinn in the 8th as a defensive replacement and he promptly grounded into a double play.

(Note: This is actually a gag on the team. Yes, we have a Benjamin and a Bennett on our team, and these are their nicknames. The lastnames are also similar, just not "Quinn" I tell you this isn't a really crappy forced gag.)

I strode up to the plate, leading off for the third time in the damn game. I watched the Catcher probe the ump for his April plans. Ashby was going on 100 pitches by now. He was getting lax, lazy and was still pitching on "L"

He glared threw his mit and cap at the sign and nodded. Coming set he took a breath and wound up for the hundredth time.

"U" Rang off in my mind as he spun back,

"C" Followed as he came set

"L!!!" Screamed in my mind as I spotted the curveball perched in between his little fingers.


Oh boy did I sell out. The short, compact swing absolutely demolished the ball as it made contact with my bat.

"Holy fuck." Were the words spoken by the catcher as he opened his eyes and watched the ball sail in the sky. Ashby followed suit and watched the ball fly over his head. I watched the left fielder, #44, just stand there and watch the ball sail over the fence and deposit the ball into a set of bleachers.

"WHOO!!!" Was the collective scream that was started by Kline. No more shutout. No No-No. 10-1 now.

End Game:

Here's where I'd like to put: "Yea, we came back from 10 runs down to take them down with a walkoff! It was amazing!" but of course we lost, and I got the only hit of the game. Real riveting stuff eh? Ashby "Asshole" Perkins came off with the win, K. Wallace got the L.

Well so far I'm batting .333 with a HR and an RBI, let's hope it stays that way.


So, my first blog post. More of a story but hey, it's something to read on a rainy day like today. Any suggestions on what to do to make it more entertaining is appreciated.

Also note: I don't hate the Ashby guy because he was short, it's just an astute observation about him and how he completely dominated us even though he was like sub 5'6". I also found out from Brandon that the kid was drafted by the Rangers while he was in high school soooo...


I liked this, great "voice." I've played myself, although very little, but I'm a fan of the game. Football is violent, Baseball is cerebral, man. Couple things - the place where you used other languages was funny, but it really didn't "fit in." Also, while some of this sounded like you were telling the story to a friend (good) other places, like stopping to make explanations, messed up the flow like you were breaking the forth wall.

Just some thoughts, keep swinging.

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