8.17.01 BATAVIA MUCKDOGS vs HUDSON VALLEY RENEGADES
 |
Meanwhile, the waking dream that is Batavia continues. After a number of aborted, weather-scuttled attempts, it finally worked out that I was able to bring my wife along and show her what I had discovered just thirty miles from our home. Seems so trivial, doesn’t it, thirty miles? But then all Alice had to do was jump down a rabbit hole.
The only Saturday afternoon game of the season made for a sparser than usual crowd, but those who did turn out were hardcore Batavia boosters, and what they lacked in numbers they made up for in enthusiasm, and vitriol too. The beleaguered field umpire—there are only two at this level, one behind the plate and one for everywhere else, and they’re as inexperienced and error-prone as the players—made a couple questionable calls at first base early on, after which he was hounded relentlessly by a weathered and mostly toothless man who apparently makes it his business to see to such matters. Hunched over, wearing overalls and a mesh cap, all he was missing was a copy of the Farmer’s Almanac clutched to his breast. He hovered over the line at first base, constantly reminding the umpire that he was being monitored, carefully. “Well, you blew that one!” he bleated. “But at least it was closer than the first one you blew.”
Despite the contentiousness—which extended to both dugouts, as first the Devil Rays–affiliate Renegades’ manager came out to argue a call and then the Muckdogs’ own Frank Klebe got himself ejected in spectacular fashion, giving such a performance that he felt obliged, rightfully, I thought, to take a bow on his way to the locker room—this was a beautiful game. The Muckdogs got on the board early with a couple of runs in the first off Renegades starter Nick Cromer, and for most of the afternoon that looked like it was going to be enough. The Muckdogs’ starting pitcher, a 6'5" righthander named Jason Bernard, worked his way out of a couple jams and was otherwise superb, making it to the ninth having allowed only one run, a solo homer in the seventh by 19-year-old Hudson Valley left fielder Nate Dion.
The game was well short of two hours old when Bernard took the mound in the ninth to finish the job. He was only one out away from doing just that, in fact, when he got careless and hit Dion with a pitch. The next batter was light-hitting catcher Jorge Maduro, who hadn’t done a damn thing all day, and wouldn’t you know it: he lined a shot through the gap in right to score Dion and tie the game.
What looked like it was going to be a two-hour game ended up going three hours and thirty-eight minutes. Fifteen innings. There was a great moment toward the end when the plate umpire habitually inspected a ball that he’d pulled out of his bag before tossing it to the pitcher, and the call came from the pressbox: “Don’t be too picky—we’ve only got four left!”
After five innings of flawless relief from both bullpens, something had to break; in the fifteenth it finally did, as the Renegades roughed up Josh Scott in his third inning of work to the tune of five runs. The Muckdogs got one back in the bottom of the frame, but then on came this fella Oscar Bustillos for the Renegades who looked like he had about as much business pitching at this level as that punk Danny Almonte did throwing to 12-year-olds, and that was pretty much that.
Postscript: Leaving the ballpark, it was impossible not to notice that the streets we’d come in on were now blocked off, lined with vintage cars and teeming with people. We found a place to park and spent the next two hours walking around admiring ’49 Cadillacs and ’32 Fords and split-window Corvettes and Thunderbirds and Impalas and Mustangs and Cudas from all eras, and just as I was sinking my teeth into a terrific beef-on-weck sandwich that I’d bought from some Rotarians a distinctive rumble called my attention to the sight of a freaking B-17 Flying Fortress circling overhead. My wife looked at me and said, disbelievingly, “We are actually hanging out in Batavia.” See? Didn’t I tell you?
FINAL SCORE: RENEGADES 7, MUCKDOGS 3
FOOD CONSUMED: Just a couple of hot dogs for me. My wife though, sometimes difficult to please at the ballpark, had a garbage plate, and was deeply impressed.