LI Bandits Road to the Nationals -- 6/7/08

If this is the “Road to the Nationals,” then they must be holding them in HELL this year because its 99 degrees in the shade and it’s only June.

The morning started off at 5 am, much like most tournament mornings, rushing, grunting and loading the truck. But since I have been spoiled by the girls’ recent run of success, I packed very light in the food and beverage department.

Two games. It was supposed to be TWO games and we’d be done and I could resume my usual Saturday chores of shopping, cleaning and cooking something special to enjoy with a nice bottle of wine at the end of the day. Wait. That’s my usual Saturday chores when it’s NOT Softball season. So instead it’s 3:50 pm and where am I?

Sitting in the truck with the air conditioning blasting waiting for the girls to play Game 3 at 4:45 pm. Once again the Techno-Gods have been kind to me and offered up another un-secure internet connection. This is good as the Big Angry Man is in a foul mood and I do not want to speak to him.

Game One, at 8 am this morning, seems like it was a different lifetime ago. Although the Riptide beat the Breezy Angels by 7 - 3, it was about the worst officiated game we have ever witnessed or been part of. Now, everyone has a bad day now and then. But it was obvious that these two ASA officials were having the SAME bad day. I never complain about such things, until today when it was so blatantly obvious that there were 3 blown calls. They didn’t cost us the game; they were just wrong.

For the first time ever, I left the field to seek out whoever was in charge. I smiled politely and asked for their names. This is unlike me, but the Laurel & Hardy team that called this game was just unbelievable. Billy Harris and Allen Thompson might be ASA qualified, but they seem to both need a vision adjustment this morning.

The girls managed an exceptionally well orchestrated double play. Mr. Thompson decided to call the girl safe when 25 people who were observing clearly saw the player as OUT. During another play, he failed to make a call at all which kept the ball in play as it was tossed around from base to base and two runs scored that shouldn‘t have.

The book has the details, as do numerous other parents, but I will leave to the truth to Pete whose vision and judgment I trust above all others on these issues. Suffice it to say, he let his feelings be known without getting himself removed from the game.

After I had complained, the man in charge of the officiating did come by to watch just a portion of the game in progress. I didn’t say anything, but he listened to the wrath of the other parents as they were all rehashing what had happened. I’m hoping he realized it wasn’t just one irate parent who felt their kid was victim to a bad call. We were winning. This wasn’t a situation of being a sore loser. This was a situation where the girls were no longer the most important thing on the field. Everyone became fixated on this official.

Game two should have started at 11:45 am but didn’t get underway until 12:10 pm. Probably because none of the officials wanted to work our game. That’s just a hunch and nothing I have proof of. But I’m sure we were the talk of the Blue squad.

As we moved to the next field, good old Ken Mac, or Diego as he has been called, was sitting pretty in his canopied lawn chair like an unshaven rascal in a Wild West surrey. Priceless. The only things missing were his tea and peanut butter sandwich.

Johnny boy was uncharacteristically quiet, but then again, Danni was hitting well, so what could he possibly say. Well, he could say the same thing the rest of us did. “Oh my God! How did it get so HOT!!?”

The girls were under a tent on the bench, but it wasn’t helping. They were flushed and the heat was getting to them.

I know for a fact that my daughter does not function well in the heat. She never has. From the time she was a baby, if you put this child in the sun and heat for more than 15 minutes, she’d turn beet red and her eyes would roll back in her head and she’d pass out. We found this out on a visit to Sea World when she was 2. Her father thought she was dead and I was to blame. But the baby with the sun hat, who was slathered in 50 SPF sunscreen managed to perk right up within 2 minutes in an air conditioned gift shop. But the damage was done: Mom and Dad were no longer speaking to each other for the day and we left the park. She never got to see Shamu.

I noticed many of the other girls had the same beet red look about them under that glaring sun. Even Princess Dianna who had arrived just in time for game two was wilting. “How did it get so hot?” she questioned and went to the bench to make sure the girls were drinking enough.

Kevin was turning a lovely shade of Crimson. Even though everyone was handing him lotion to put on, it wasn’t helping. Mama Bear was turning red too, but no where near the un-human shade that Kevin was turning right before our eyes.

Needless to say, the girls didn’t fare well. There were some hits, but not enough to win them the game. The Silver Bullets were the victors. There was frustration along with the sweat, and a few tears thrown in for good measure. It was a devastating loss. More so for the parents than the girls. We are spoiled. We all had plans for an early exit today. Fate had a different plan.

Once moved to the “Losers bracket” the next game on the itinerary was at 4:45 pm at ANOTHER field on ANOTHER street somewhere in Kings Park. After a fast-food lunch, all three of us sat in the truck with the air conditioning running full blast in total silence for 45 minutes and $30 worth of gasoline.

I was happy to see Danni sneak up to Kira’s window and bang on it. “Open the door for Danni, Kira.” I said quickly because with someone else in the truck, we’d have to break this bad mood that was holding us.

“I’ve never been in this truck! How do you get in it?” It is a bit difficult to jump up into, and even harder to get OUT of in heels and an evening gown. But since the word “vanity” doesn’t even know I exist, which is obvious by the way I look by the time these 12 hour days on the ball field end, I forget Dan’s truck is an “experience” to others.

We sat on the bleachers and watched yet another game. It was still hot, but the sun was no longer as strong, and the girls had eaten lunch, so they had a little more life in them and their bats. Although MsPharm will tell you it’s because we put a spell on the bats to come alive, and they did. They ended up winning 10-1 and stopping the game with the Bandits Halpin in the bottom of the fifth. Had they LOST this game, our day would have been over and so would their shot in the tournament. For quite awhile, I was thinking that would have been a better outcome.

Back in the truck, and headed for yet ANOTHER field for Game 4 of the day, I made Dan stop at the Hess station so I could at least pick up more water and ice. I was tired of paying $1.50 a bottle from the ice cream trucks that were the only vendors on the fields. Even if that was a bargain compared to the $4.50 a bottle I pay at the Coliseum, I was tired of it.

The sun was beginning to set and there was a slight breeze as Game 4 started at about 6:30 pm. Annie’s Mom had made her exit immediately after Game 3, while Kate’s Mom and brother arrived a few minutes into Game 4. I’m surprised they even recognized Kevin who was now an ungodly shade of purple.

Johnny boy and some of the other fathers made themselves comfortable on lawn chairs outside the fenced fields while the rest of us were again bleacher-creatures. It seems THEY didn’t pack as light as I did, and I was pretty damn JEALOUS!

The Crush had done well during their day at the tournament. They did well again from the start of this game. When they hit, they hit hard and managed to get the ball into unguarded territory. When our girls hit, the ball went straight back to the pitcher who managed to catch it without flinching.

Kat proved she was the coach’s daughter when she complained that the Crush pitcher was not presenting the ball the way she was supposed to. Hey! This was an ASA tournament; they had to play by ASA rules. She was right of course, and the officials corrected the situation, much to the Crush’s dismay.

We had hope all the way to the 7th inning and to the final out. But it was obvious the day and the weekend were not going to turn out the way any of us had planned. Of course each girl took away something from this day, most notably Hannah and Rachel who had a very good day at bat and are now comfortable with the travel softball style.

Sunday would come, and the tournament was sure to go on without the LI Riptide. Another brutal scorcher of a day with temps well over 90 and thunder storms and rain blanketing the Island. We don’t know what would have happened had we made it in.

Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe we all needed to be reminded that anything can happen in this crazy game they call softball. And maybe we needed to be reminded that nothing is handed to us. We can’t take for granted that they will win all the time. Everyone has a bad day now and then, no one is perfect. Perhaps now none of us will take for granted the wins or the losses.

And I personally have learned the following: Pack the damn cooler as if I plan to be there for the next 24 hours and never, ever forget the damn wine, sunscreen and Advil because having to be in the sun for that many hours with my family is certainly going to give me a headache!

As a Hockey offside: During the first game on Saturday morning, while sitting on the bleachers, I had a very interesting conversation with Hannah’s parents and NY Times Mike. I don’t even know how it started, but my Islanders blog came up and as if by sheer cosmic intervention, Hannah’s Mom innocently said “Oh! I wish I knew you two years ago. Our neighbor was on the Islanders.” I smiled, knowing that since I was now a regular in the locker room, I wasn’t going to be star struck by any information she could offer up.

“Jason Blake lived right next door. I could have introduced you."

I let out a laugh that could be heard two fields away. It wasn’t stopping either. This caused everyone to look at me and wonder why I was laughing so hard.

“Um… No… That’s ok.” I tried to compose myself as Mike looked at me with a smile, knowing me only slightly better than the others involved in this conversation. Although I DO believe he might have said “Stalker.” I could be wrong though.

“He’s in Canada now, right? “ They asked.

“Yes. He’s on the Maple Leafs making a lot of money but he’s not very happy.” I said knowingly.

“He wasn’t happy before either. He wasn’t exactly an easy person. His wife was nice, what was her name again?” she looked at her husband for the answer, but I got there first.

“Sarah.” I said. I could have rattled off the kids’ names and license plates on both cars but I didn’t. I just explained, “Well, Jason is the reason I’m doing what I do. He’s the reason I won the NHL contest and how I ended up writing the blog.”

I excused myself and laughed all the way to the bathroom wondering if I should call IslanderQueen and let her in on this piece of information. I splashed water on my face, composed myself as the maniacal laughter ended. I headed back to the bleachers.

“Is that his number?” looking at my necklace. “No. That’s Kira’s number. I have an Islander necklace though that does have his number “55” on it, but I took it off.”

Yes. I took it off the last time he ignored me as I almost fell on him coming out of the locker room and into the crowded hallway at the Coliseum. I gave up after six years of protecting him from all those in the media, on the internet or in person, who had negative things to say about his talent or his personality. I gave up after six years of being the best non-sanctioned, non-paid PR woman in the hockey business. It was a thankless job that I toiled at with motherly devotion.

On March 18th, I stood five feet away from him in the Coliseum tunnel as my Blog Box buddies performed what amounted to an intervention.

“Look at my eyes Dee! Look at my eyes! Don’t look anywhere else but my eyes!” Islesblogger.com Mike S. kept repeating to me as TigerTrack Tom and OkposoNet Ken surrounded me, waiting for me to just hit the floor. It reminded me of an old western, where someone was responsible for diverting a gunshot victim’s attention while a bartender is digging out a bullet with nothing but a rusted knife and a bottle of bourbon. My bullet is 5' 9" and blonde with ice-blue eyes.

As dramatic as that all sounds, it pales in comparison to the reality of the scene that night. Just ask Mike, Tom and Ken. Ask Jason Blake and he'll say "Huh?" He's not a very observant man unless he's on the ice.

On March 18th, I went home and took the necklace off and replaced it with one that didn’t have a number on it just as I had promised the Islanders’ PR team. I had promised if they let me attend practice that morning so that I could finally get my story on him, I would lose the number as it seemed to bother them that I was still wearing it while he was playing for the Leafs. I always keep my promises, even if the story I ended up with wasn’t the story I wanted.

So the book in my head chronicling my road to becoming "Sayville’s Hockey Hot-Line" will ultimately be written without the finality of a one-on-one interview with the man that made me the hockey industry’s most prolific pen-pal. It's truly a shame. It would be a perfect ending. But I guess I’m just not ready for the ending yet. There must be more to come, because since that fateful day, the cosmos doesn’t seem to want to let ME go when it comes to my boy Blake.

So now I’m starting to wonder… Who is stalking WHOM? Guess I'll just have to wait to find out!