Life of Wry

Sometimes, when you’re a pitcher, your contribution to a game may only be three pitches. Today was such a day.

Peter came in in the top of the seventh with two out and a runner on second. The number two batter was up, who’d flown out three times–twice with big boomers to center, and once on a blooper over the Tyler’s head at third. On his last at bat, he’d lined a nice one into the gap for a double. Guy’s a hitter.

Turns out, he’s also Dusty Baker’s son. Dusty was a hard hitting outfielder himself, who played for the Braves in the seventies and the Dodgers in the eighties (which is how I knew him), among other teams; coached and then managed the Giants, Cubs, Reds, and, some months ago moved over to the Washington Nationals. He grew up in Sac and was a Sac-Joaquin Hall of Fame player (Sac-Joaquin is OUR section!), and now lives in Granite Bay (when not working, I guess).

And his son Darren is sort of famous himself. As the story goes, Darren, was yanked out of harm’s way during the 2002 World Series, when, as a three-something “bat boy” (how does that work?), he wandered obliviously from his post and into the region of home plate, where a major play was about to occur (worth looking up on YouTube, it’s pretty funny).

So, yeah, that kid.

Peter threw two strikes (I can’t remember if they were swinging or called strikes), and then forced a grounder to second. Reed made a nice, routine throw to Daniel for the out.

We were not able to score any runs in the bottom of the seventh, and lost the game 5-0. Big bummer. We’re starting to worry our playoff chances are less certain, but they will rally.

Thankfully, Dianna reminded me to get a photo: