Yesterday was the playoffs. It was double elimination, meaning that you lose two games and then you're out of the playoffs.
And we're... uh... out of the playoffs.
But we won the first game we played yesterday! As we arrived at the field, calling out coach to find out what field we were using brought some unhappy news: coach was at the animal hospital. His dog was choking on something. He wouldn't be there for the first game.
We gathered for our team cheer, a wee bit down in the dumps as we were going up against a team that had served us our sorry butts in the recent past. "Ba-a-llllllllBREAKERS!!!"
"Guys," I said, "Let's win one for Tish!" (Tish would be our coaches golden retriever.)
Because we were the lower seeded team, we were visitors. So we were first up at bat. Crack! A good hit. We got a run. So we finished our first inning at bat with a lead. Not so the Falcon's, our opponents. Our fielding was spot on. No errors at all. So we got to the second inning and the score was 1-0. That felt good!
And that continued. Our bats were there, our fielding was there. Crack! Crack! Crack! We continued to rack up the ribbies. The Falcons would hit a pop fly and we would catch it for the out. If it was in the infield, we'd get it to first base before the baserunner.
And the old Ballbreakers were back! We were having a good time! All of us were on our feet, cheering on whoever was at bat, greeting each good shag with "Nice snatch!" All that good stuff.
Winning isn't everything. It's the only thing. When it comes to having a blast, that is.