Captain Raz rallied the Achievers once again for a wonderful day of baseball in the hot Skåne sun to play the pack of strays from Malmö in a double-header. Threefingers also got his car from his special lady friend so we could all ride with a smile on our face, not having to worry about trains and buses and shit.
We all suspected this might be the end of our season; one of ups and downs, strikes and gutterballs, a few beers, some burgers, and more than a few laughs. Nobody minded if we did a J. Except Sweden.
Sobering up for the harsh reality of a season finale, the Achievers were nonetheless high on sunshine and spiciness on this post-Chili-Cook-Off Sunday afternoon. No funny stuff.
Having little or no experience playing baseball, and especially in pitching, the Achievers went with their softball ace pitcher to start the contest. Feebles threw three strong innings and our bats were active and aggressive early, giving us a three run lead. Things got shaky in the middle innings, as Lukwata and Tucci and Threefingers tried to minimize the damage, but it's just plain hard to throw that little orb for strikes. The Malmö men drew some walks, took some extra bases, and stole the lead -- never to relinquish it again.
We fought hard and out-hit our opponents, but we just didn't have enough in the tank to turn it all around. The Achievers dropped the front-end of the double-header in what should've been an easy win.
Ah fuck it, dude. Let's play two!
Feeling mischievious on the basepaths and down a few runs, the Achievers were taking risks, stealing bases, beating out infield hits, forcing bad throws, and frustrating the New Yorker on the mound. Tucci was on base all day, getting hits, showing some wheels (even when getting caught stealing), and delighting the crowd with that trademark slide of his. After stealing second and third, D'mensch turned a disastrous baserunning guffaw into an acrobatic steal of home by flying high over the catcher and his tag. And the momentum looked to be swinging in favor of the Achievers.
But a disastrous 4th and 5th inning saw the hometeam take a commanding lead, with a bunch of walks and a couple key RBI hits from the Ghanian slugger to seal the deal. That dude can hit. Rumor has it he lives in CPH and only plays baseball. No softball. But perhaps he'd dig our style...
With the game firmly in hand and a lot of dudes needing to go home, we called it a day and went our separate ways. While one car went home to DK, the rest of us needed some oat sodas.
Lukwata led us through StorTorg and LillaTorg and whathaveyou, all the way into the Bishops Arms. Another dubiously named beer bar with brit overtones and overpriced microbrews. But it don't matter to Jesus! Lukwata managed to locate some cancupiscent treasures imported from colorful Colorado and purchased three Dales Pale Ales and one cyclopean oilcan of TenFidy stout, all from Oscar Blues, all for about a half-thousand krona.
The incredible elixir lifted our spirits and prompted Tucci and Daniel San to scurry for more; a few bottles of hoppy ale from California. The uptight bartender lady told us we weren't allowed to take the bottles from the premises. But the Achievers had other plans, man.
In what we thought was a coordinated and silent conspiracy to run away with our beers in hand, four of us got up and out in a hurry. Alas, Lukwata still sat lurking at the table. Finishing his fucking cigarette. He don't give a shit. But the bartender lady sure did.
It was clear she didn't like our jerk-off names, our jerk-off faces, or our jerk-off behavior. She yelled for us to come back, but none of us turned around to see her evil glare. Onward we marched, beers in pockets, until Joe peeked around the corner to see Wes approaching us in a light jog. "RUN!" was all he said and all we needed to hear. Captain Raz, jogging toward his car with a sudsy microbrew foaming all over the place. Tucci and Daniel San with bottles in their pockets, running like they're constipated. D'mensch cries out, "we got a man down!" and heads back to retrieve Lukwata from the clutches of this icy Swedish barmaid.
A decoy maneuver was planned, but not needed. Lukwata was stonewalling her. She made some threats, but didn't really do anything. Although sometimes it's cathartic...
Meanwhile, Captain Raz and the lads had engaged the getaway car and were reversing in our direction as we speedwalked through the center of Old Town, on a mission to get the fuck out of town before the Malmö Chief of Police tracked us down and took our beers. We were tempted to drive by the bar and chuck our cans at the place, but it was gettin late.
Now, it seems to me what we had here was a series of victimless crimes. First, we incomprehensibly lost both games to the ragtag bunch from Malmö when we shoulda beat the crap out of 'em. Second, Lukwata spent all his money on beers and falafel, and this fucking strumpett marches all over town because we came and we peed on her rug!? Finally, as Raz guzzled his brew behind the wheel -- Danish style -- whizzing by unsuspecting officers of Swedish law enforcement, we laughed with our bellies full, lookin out the back door, racing for the bridge to take us across the border and back to the future.
Well, I guess that about does her. Wraps her all up. It was a good season, dontcha think? Most parts, anyways. I didn't like seeing all these games canceled -- eight in all -- but I happen to know there's some playoff baseball to be seen in the coming weeks. And an end of the year party, too!
Catch ya'll on down the trail...