Bob Uecker, perhaps the most comedic of Major League Baseball announcers back in Milwaukee, can take a seat. When – and if – legendary Vin Scully ever decides to step away as the Dodgers’ announcer, I’ve found a perfect replacement. Tongue in cheek, of course.
For the first two innings of the May 8 Mountain Pass League showdown between Hemet and visiting Hemet Tahquitz – first place was on the line with one game left – I listened to commentary that was sidesplitting, inane and impromptu.
Normally, I try and focus this corner on something from around these parts. There’s got to be something going on around here, right? I’m a sucker for the offbeat stuff, though. I found myself taking notes.
I don’t even know the young woman’s name. She was a Hemet High student, out to watch her friends play the big game. It was a clear, blue sky day, a touch of breeze and heat in the mid 80s.
You hear a lot of throwaway lines at ball games, mostly sarcasm (or anger) directed at umpires or coaches, rah-rah stuff at the players. Usually, it’s something new and refreshing, like, “C’mon, Blue.” Maybe there’s a parent out there who can’t stand a coach keeping their kid on the bench. Or, there are those folks – usually some kids’ Moms who can’t stand to see anyone suffer – who clap a player back to the dugout after striking out, usually with the line, “It’s okay. You’ll be all right.”
It’s never okay when you strike out.
This young lady was way different. For those first couple innings, I didn’t even want to look back at her for fear she might take my glance as a reason to shut up. No chance. I wanted her to keep going.
She was hilarious without even realizing it. In between some hefty “woooo woooos” and loud claps, she offered commentary and made some of the most bizarre inquiries. Most people that show up to a baseball game have some concept of the game’s intricacies.
Not her.
“When will this game end?” she asked a guy sitting one row ahead of her, seeking a little expertise from a more experienced baseball mind.
He tried to be patient. “You can never tell with baseball,” he said.
“How many innings do they play?” she said.
He said, “Seven innings … in high school.”
“Not nine innings, like the pros – oh, good!”
Just then, a high pitch was bunted at – and fouled back.
“Why,” she asked, “was that a strike?”
“It was a foul ball.”
“But the pitch didn’t come anywhere near the plate.”
An inning, or so later, a Hemet player got plunked by one of the area’s top pitchers, Tim Borst.
“Oh, my god,” she said, “what happened?”
Her friend answered. “He got hit.”
“With the ball?”
The player limped to first base, taking some time, having taken one in the hip.
“Boy,” she said, “he’s really playing it up, isn’t he?”
Obviously, she’s never taken an 85-mph fastball on her body.
On a first-pitch strike to one hitter, a ball right across the center of the plate, she offered this insight: “You coulda hit that pitch, dude.”
Never mind the kid was probably under coach’s instructions to take a pitch, or two. She confided to her friend, “I guess that’s why they only play seven innings, huh? They’re not good enough to play nine innings.”
A couple innings later, a batter singled to right field. She said, “He swung at that pitch on purpose, I think.”
When I did finally catch a glimpse of her, she was on her way to the snack bar, asking if I’d make way for her as she climbed down from the bleachers from our perch behind home plate.
Her blond hair was wrapped into a neat little pony tail, held together – of all things – by a yellow pencil. Wearing black lace sleeves down her arms, blue jeans and black and white tiger paw shoes, she was a picture of good cheer and baseball commentary.
She came back and rejoined her friend, behind me to my left. Speaking to another friend on the cell phone, she explained, “I’m only in my fourth inning. They play seven innings and it will probably go extra innings – especially if it’s tied.”
That’s a direct quote, folks.
I lost her in the fifth inning. She spotted someone she knew in another section of bleachers, climbed down again – past me – and worked her way over to the other area. I should’ve followed her just to hear some more “gems.”
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Unexpected comedy break at the ball game
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