Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Blountville Loses first game in tournament

Blountville lost tonight to a good Johnson City team. The game was back and forth until Johnson City pulled ahead and hung on to win 13-7. We play tomorrow night @ 8:15.

1 comment:

Harper2 said...

To all our fellow parents and coaches, thanks for a great season.


Blountville at the Bat

(with all due apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer)


The outlook was bright and rosy for team Blountville Blue that day;
With eye black on and bats in tow, this team will surely play.
So round their coaches gathered, each eager All-Star lad,
And as their voices joined in ’team,’ a victory was sure to be had.

The umpire stood poised upon the mound to awaken the machine,
And behind him stood ten gloves flashing leather in a manner seldom seen.
And upon the brows of the opposing team grim melancholy sat,
For after putting them down 1-2-3, ‘twas Blountville at the bat.

First up was that freckled speedster who goes by the name of Tanner,
Laid down a bunt and then flew to first in a furtive, flash-like manner.
Then came the mighty Christopher, bat gripped firmly in his hand,
And promptly sent that tater a flyin’, safe on second he did stand.

Two on, no outs, and who in the batter’s box did appear,
But Isaac and his freshly bandaged finger and a bat he’d nicknamed ‘fear.’
A whack belied a screamer down third and the runners quickly sped,
A play at the plate and a cloud of dust---“2 to 0” the umpire said.

And now the defense faced Evan with a look of complete despair,
A stand up triple for the shortstop in blue, and all they could do was stare.
Mighty Austin was next in the order and he ripped one to the gap,
Not even a well-placed throw to second could stop that mohawk beneath his cap.

Thomas strode proudly to the plate with his game face firmly set,
And promptly ended the home half of the first---the run limit had been met.
So back to the field went those energetic young lads, tit-tat;
Let’s get ‘em boys, three up and three down, then it’s Blountville at the bat.

Then from the visiting dugout came a sigh, a groan, not a shout,
For their leadoff man met Darien’s quick glove and the line score read ‘one out.’
But then came a shot to left center that the batsman he did lace,
And if you looked closely you could surely have seen a sly grin upon his face.

And he stood and admired his ball truly struck and slowly made the turn,
But when he trudged into second base there a shocking lesson he did learn.
For CJ tracked down that long shot, and spun and let it fly,
And as ball met mitt, and mitt met batter, a tear welled in the coach’s eye.

A nubber toward third gave a glimmer of hope, a baserunner ready to bust,
He leaned off the bag then darted to second, a ball that kicked up in the dust.
But Parker espied that white scuffed-up ball, and plucked it up off the ground,
He tossed off his mask and let fly a dart, “he’s out,” the umpire did sound.

First up in the second was Brady, his bat head tried and true,
After fouling one off, he lined it up straight, and up the middle the ball it flew.
Then Kody faked a bunt, pulled it back, and roped one to right,
Blake followed suit and drove Brady home, as the ball slowly drifted out of sight.

And then came that pesky lefty named Hayden to the bat,
And he promptly slapped one past second and loaded the bases fat.
With excitement in the air, and the bases fully juiced, the opposing dugout was heard to say,
“Oh no, not number 11,” that hard-hitting youngster they lovingly call G.A.

The first pitch that he saw was not quite to his taste and the count was quickly one strike,
But the second was straight, a little inside, and he quipped as he swung “now that is what I like.”
And off flew the ball up and over the outfielder’s glove, and deftly through the grass,
One by one they came storming across the plate, and the runs they did amass.

Now the dugout is empty, no more mud caked on their pants,
The field sits eerily quiet, devoid of their rally chants.
But the camaraderie and memories will live on each time they don their hats,
For there will always be joy upon the field, when it’s Blountville at the bat.