Over the Hill. Also Far Away
The game was hard fought, and the kids showed moments of genuine brilliance on both sides, but two of our best players were not there, and another one was mildly injured from a spill she took over the weekend. In the end, YG's team lost, 12-17. My daughter was a hero: not only did she pitch for two innings, but she improved with each inning, even while visibly tiring. The game started at 5:30 and didn't finish until 8:20. On a school night. Because it was a playoff the usual "1 1/2 hours or four innings" rules didn't apply. It was six very long innings, and they finished when there was just enough light so that no one got killed. YG's coach made a point of telling me that several other coaches commented on the girl's stamina and heart, as well as her nascent skills. I passed this on to YG, who seemed more interested in her Ritz Bits and Capri Sun than the praise of her elders.
As for me--the game was played on Treasure Island (no, honestly, that's what it's called; former naval base in the SF bay), and as the sun got lower on the horizon, the wind began to kick up. I did my part, cheering loudly and conversing with others among the parents. But I have to say that, as I got colder and creakier, I began to think I might have fallen afoul of a species of Hell: my honey's in Spain, my ears are freezing, and this game will go on forever. But no, it ended and we came home and ate pizza. And so, to bed.