September 15, 2018 - Game Recap

Pace & Chris vs. Paul & Verlan
Score: 18-19
Location: PARADIS3 Field (Fall City, WA)

As part of our raucous weekend of old college roommates getting together to enjoy some male bonding we made sure to dedicate a morning to a friendly game of wiffle.  The house we were staying at had a lot of acreage in the back, though with some grading challenges, but we were able to scout out a big patch and come up with an orientation that ended up making for some nice confines.

Once we were able to rouse Verlan from his deep slumber in his pitch-black guestroom, and he had appropriately layered himself, we made our way out to the maiden field to get things started.  We were a little late on start time but nobody was more than 15 minutes late so no lap-running punishments were enforced.

After hitting for teams Paul took to the mound to start off the contest.  He gave up a couple walks and a couple singles, plus a 2-run double which went over Verlan's head by quite a ways in the vast outfield which gave us all a chance to witness his interesting running form which I would describe as being very rigid and earnest, with short lunges, involving well-defined elbow thrusts (made all the more interesting by the swishing sounds of his plastic-y overcoat).  In the end of that half inning we put up 3 runs.

Then when it was our turn to take the field Chris took the mound to test out his pitching form.  Having not pitched in over 10 years, and dealing with fresh balls that hadn't yet been scuffed by time and bat contact, he struggled with his command, giving up 11 runs on only 3 hits (including one grand salami by Paul).

In the 2nd Chris and I put up just 1 or 2 more runs as we couldn't find much of a rhythm at the plate.  Paul and Verlan also put up just a couple runs as Chris settled a bit on the mound and as their plate disciple waned a bit.

In the 3rd Chris and I finally broke out for a 10-run inning with a steady string of solid hits all over the field, including a deep blast to the right-center, down-sloping homerun territory that sent Verlan running for an extra 50 feet or so in his pursuit of the ball down the wet grass and soil.  I took the mound in the bottom of the 3rd with a 15-13 lead and threw their hitting off with my rapid-fire delivery and some different arm angles.

Paul countered in the following inning with some erratic pitching that lulled us into taking some bad hacks for some easy outs.  Then they put up a run or two in their half of the frame which took us to the 5th and final inning with a score of 18-16, our lead.

With time running short we switched to a 2-out inning for that final inning.  Chris and I got the bases loaded but hit a couple grounders into the high grass that cut short our rally without tacking on any insurance runs.

In the bottom of the 5th I gave up a quick double to Paul, then got a strikeout on Verlan, then had Paul down in an 0-2 count, one strike away from victory.  I threw a good fast one in on his hands that he was able to inside-out for an opposite field single.  Then Verlan came up with 2 men on and heroically cranked an overhand curve up into the tree above the imaginary homerun line for a walk-off 3-run badonkadonk, earning himself MVP honors for the day.

Game Highlights

• Verlan successfully chased down a deep popup and caught it around his shins while still staying on his feet.
• Paul unsuccessfully chased down a short foul popup, diving into the wet grass with some interesting arm contortions.  This left him a bit rattled when he came back to the mound. 
• Paul set a record by multitasking during a wiffle game, coordinating funeral details on the phone with various church bigwigs back in Arlington.
• For postgame grub we went to McD's for breakfast.  Paul declared (sacrilegiously, in my opinion) that he wouldn't mind if the McMuffin or the McGriddle ceased to exist. 

Church guy 

Game report by Pace Barker

December 29, 2017 - Game Recap

Paul & Crato vs. Des, Pace, and Michael Funk
Score: 40-20
Location: Lambert Original (Paradise Valley, AZ)

Introduction

On a brisk winter morning in the desert valley, a silver van traversed the calderas under the first rays of sun, making its way through parched riverbeds and eventually arriving at Bar-Z Lane where it turned the corner and came careening round the driveway and onto the back dirt lot where it was put into park in the SW corner at a near 90-degree angle with the driver side windows down and the sunroof cracked. Preceding it in time but not location was a black coupe with glinting wheels; driver-side windows also down. 

Then, all in a moment, the 2 passengers from the van emerged, flanked by the man in the coupe—a slick, mustached gentleman in a black and gray jumpsuit—while a 4th man with both his arms held high above his head as if to signal a victory stepped out from the garage as the articulated door curled up and settled into its musty confines. The 4 men all walked towards each other, converging at a point where dirt meets with concrete; a site which had an aura about it as if it were some primordial altar of sacrifice, where dreams are fulfilled or crushed, labors are rewarded or rejected, and sweat and blood are shed equally.  

The men began conversing in pleasant tones, and exchanging handshakes and other forms of greeting.  A fifth, younger man with ruddy cheeks soon emerged from inside the Spanish-style home with its sun-bleached orange brick, and joined their assemblage.  A ritual then transpired in which the men, in turn, softly tossed a white plastic ball into the air with one hand while the other held a black plastic bat; the two hands then joining on the handle of the bat in an effort to make contact with the ball and hit it as far as they could.  As the ritual concluded, the men split into 2 sides and it became apparent that they were about to engage in a great battle -- a wiffle battle.  

--

With the rare occurrence of somewhere between 4 and 8 Gil Tyrees being in Phoenix roughly around the same time, the email and SMS channels were fluttering with coordination efforts to see if a game (or two) at Lambert Original might be possible.  We settled on the morning of Dec. 29th and were fortunate to get 4 of the greats there in attendance.  (We tried to do some last-minute rearranging to see if we could get Mark there but, when asked about his projected whereabouts on Jan 1, he could only sagely respond with a metaphor about predicting where farts travel after they're laid.  So I took that as a cue to not reschedule the game.)

We were almost joined by a non Gil Tyree, Scott Briggs, who was so desperate to join the elite club that when he was told he couldn't bring his 12-year-old and therefore needed to make new car arrangements, was about to take an Uber from Gilbert, but eventually thought better of it.

The matchup saw me on the mound for my side vs. Crato for his.

In the early going, I managed to keep the ball somewhat in check, getting out of a bases-loaded jam to give up only 2 runs in the first half of the inning.  After that, the Des-Pace-Michael team got 2 early outs but then employed some serious Moneyball strategy to work the pitchcount, foul off a bunch of 2-strike pitches, and hit line-drive singles in all directions to get a lot of runs on the board.  We were up 8-2 when I cleared the bases with a grand salami to go up 12-2.  Crato claimed he was relieved to have a clean slate, and then soon got the 3rd out.

In the 2nd inning their bats started to heat up and they notched it up 12-12 in the top half.  We put up 2 runs in our half of the inning, and as I took the mound I tried to tell myself that if I could stay focused we could maintain the small lead and end up on top.  It was at that point that things started to really unravel.

I gave up homer after homer after homer for the next 3 innings.  They would go on to get to 40 runs, almost all of them via the long ball.  We chipped a bit here and there, but were no match for their hitting prowess.

Crato had just a few dry spells at the plate, but for a long stretch there he was walking up to the plate and coming out swinging for the fences on the first pitch, and he did so successfully 4 or 5 times in a row.

And when Paul was at the plate he would either crank it into or over the oleander bushes, or in the cases where I got to a 2-strike count on him, he would usually reach out to get the bat on the ball and it would infuriatingly float towards one of the cars and dink it somewhere for an automatic homer.  To throw some salt in the wound, his youngster, Wally, watched most of the game leaning up against the triple wall in left-field foul territory where he would yell out, "Go Dad! Go Dad!" and repeatedly ask who was winning.  To get some outs I ended up having to throw my absolute hardest (which caused some real soreness for a few days), and when I ended the 5th with a strikeout on Paul I gave Wally a prolonged staredown.  But Oleander Lambert and his boy got the better of me that day.

One minor consolation was found in the new Jane Lambert Tree, whose namesake had had it installed without consulting anyone from any of the various wiffle chapters.  The tree sits right by the triple wall just beyond the concrete, in fair territory.  It was ruled that any ball hitting the tree would be an automatic single.  It was further proposed and ratified (3-1) that a ball that hits a leaf of the tree would not be playable for an out on the fall, but would be an automatic single.  This ruling (though I was the lone dissenter) turned out to help me when Paul twice cranked a ball to left field over the fence that would have clearly been a homer but was ruled a single when it grazed a leaf on the tree.  Des and I giggled at our luck both times, but both times Crato immediately followed the single with a homer, rendering our luck hollow.

Game Highlights

• The Lambert gardner, Gaylen, showed up in about the 3rd inning and caught up with Paul while he was on deck.  
• In the wiffle waffle battle Patty went toe to toe with Jane and came out on top.  Jane had planned on Belgian waffles for the boys following the game, but due to some earlier waffling, Patty pounced and ended up hosting a breakfast of her own, which the Barker boys were obliged to attend.
• Michael got a bloody finger from a Crato pitch but downplayed it as just dryness, and then called time to put a band-aid on it.  
• During the band-aid timeout, while Paul scaled the house to fetch a ball from the roof, Crato pitched a ball to Des and declared that the pitch was "all or nothing".  Des then cranked the pitch for a homer, giving his team the technical victory on the day.   

Left: "Pitch it inside on his dry fingers." | Right: Des cranking an all-or-nothing homer (note Paul on the roof)

Game report by Pace Barker

December 26, 2016 - Game Recap

Pace & A-Man vs. Paul & Bluth
Score: 7-4
Location: Founding Fathers Jr. Field (Arlington, VA)

Due to the continued suckiness of Butler Holmes Park - Field 2 we decided to try to make peace with the trailers that had once colonized our beloved Founding Fathers Field.  The result was a harmonious integration of the trailers as homerun markers into a beautiful new Founding Fathers Jr. Field.

What looked to be a hitter-friendly park turned out (on this day at least) to be very offense minimizing.  Any time you felt like you got a hold of one it would seemingly catch some dense air in left field and float around, giving the outfielder plenty of time to track it down for a flyout.

To start the game off in the top of the 1st I hit one such deadened line drive to shallow left that Paul made an old-man lumbering run at but couldn't quite get to before it dropped in for a single.  Then A-Man followed up with a high pop-up that landed just a few feet behind Bluth -- we all watched (including Bluth) as Paul hustled in from deep left to try to make a play at it but it was apparent it would drop in for a single.  [Bluth seemed to have forgotten his footwork fundamentals from his Chaparral days, and any time a pop-up went behind him (no matter how close) his legs and feet seemed to resist the impulse to turn around or back-pedal to try to make a play on the ball.]  After that fortunate start, A-Man and I managed to put 3 runs up on the board.

When it was Paul's and Bluth's turn to bat they strung together some walks and singles to manage 1 run in their half of the frame.

Both pitchers (Bluth and myself) settled in for the next few innings and adapted to allow the field to help us out on defense.  The Bluth approach was to toss in a bunch of lob-balls that were generally not over the meat of the plate -- either intentionally or not.  These tantalizers induced a good amount of deadened left-field flyouts, jam-shots, and bad-footwork grounders.  Over the next 3 innings A-Man and I managed 1 run to Paul and Bluth's 0.

By the top of the 5th however A-Man and I had seemingly cracked the code, and we rode a rhythm of intentional alternating left-field grounders (Pace) and opposite field dinkers (A-Man) to tack on 3 more runs, putting us up 7-1 going into the bottom half of the final inning.

Paul and Bluth however would not go down easy as they came out roaring to start the bottom of the 5th.  With a runner on 1st Paul hit an absolute laser to left which went right to A-Man but ate him up for an assisted triple off the deflection off the hands -- this was the first extra-base hit of the day.  Immediately following, Bluth hit a deep high one to centerfield.  A-Man attempted to track it down but was flustered as he tried to negotiate through the obstacle course of Lambert kids.  He was able to get there in time but only managed to do a sort of arm-scooping motion at the ball and inadvertently batted it backwards into the wall of the garden box for a 2-run dinger.  Thankfully, I had a big enough cushion of runs to work with that even though I labored on the mound and gave up a few more walks and singles I was generally able to keep the ball in the zone and eventually get Bluth to fly out to left on a full-count 12-6 curveball for the final out.

We then all convened at the mound to recap the game.  Paul and Bluth took some comfort in the fact that at least they were winners off the field.  When I pressed for some details on this Paul chided me for asking unnecessary follow-up questions.  After some good discussion, we all made our way to District Taco for the RC-Willey Postgame Celebration.

Game Highlights

• Bluth warned Paul (accurately) at the beginning of the game that his team hasn't won a wiffle game in 15 years.
• For the first time, a folding stool was used as a sitting place for the catcher.  This decision was universally and enthusiastically lauded; though it also occasioned some regret for the many wasted years of squatting.  

Wishing you a merry Christmas

Training the next generation

Game report by Pace Barker

January 30, 2016 - Game Recap

Pace & A-Man vs. Paul, James, & Bluth
Score: 10-5 (through 2-1/3 innings)
Location: Butler Holmes Park - Field 2 (Arlington, VA)

The stars aligned to bring 'Kuwaiti James' into D.C. for a few days while I am currently home alone as the rest of my family is out of the country for a month.  So James and Paul had the brilliant idea to do a Friday-night Gil Tyree slumber party at my house.  It's amazing how easily you can ease right back into your old high school/college conversations and behavior when the setting is right like that.

We talked about old flames and funny Crato stories and stuff like that till about 2 in the morning, and then we all got in our jammies and bunked up together to watch 'Furious 5', committed to trying to watch the whole thing.  I made a comment at about the 10-minute mark and when James didn't respond we realized that he was a goner.  About 5 minutes after that Bluth told us to wake him up when it got to the "Brazhio" part, which neither Paul or I had any idea what that meant.

About 40 minutes later, after Mia tells Brian that she's pregnant, and Dom brings them in for a group hug and sagely proclaims, "the family just got bigger," Paul and I decided to hit the sack so we could be ready for our 7:16am sunrise game.

The room we were sleeping in doesn't have a clock so when James's phone was buzzing and I saw him moving around I figured it was just about time to get up.  And then Bluth's alarm sounded, and he and James were wide awake (and cheerful) while Paul and I were still half asleep and Paul started lodging complaints at them for snoring so loud all night and keeping him awake.  Then, in anticipation of my phone alarm going off, but it never sounding, I decided to ask what time it was only to learn that it was only 6:00am.  With Paul and I confused and irritated as to why we were being awoken so early, Bluth cheerfully explained that he didn't actually set his alarm for that time, he just didn't "unset" it, which was only slightly satisfying.  He further clarified that he and James often have to wake up early so they can worry about "old-guy" things like seeding their lawn, and keeping kids off their lawn, and making sure the paper doesn't get wet from the sprinklers, and other such concerns.  The only solace in all of this tomfoolery was that we might still manage to catch some zzz's until the real alarm went off at about 6:50am.  So Paul and I tried to ignore the old guys and bury our heads in our pillows.  We successfully dozed off only to have James blurt out about 5 minutes later, "Whoa! Serena lost!" which didn't really seem like wake-up-worthy news to us, so we tried to snooze one more time but had little success since Bluth was the first to fall asleep and was now snoring very loudly.

When we all woke up for real we got decked out in our many layers for the tundra conditions we would soon face on the playing field.  James was the most ill-prepared for this, having been acclimatized to the Kuwaiti desert, and having just had to shave his beard for his LDS-safezone school interview at SVU.

After hitting for teams we got underway with Bluth on the mound for his side.  His tantalizers induced some ugly swings and he quickly had 2 outs with no runners on base.  He got excited and told James he would treat him to Sizzler later that night if he got a 1-2-3 inning.  Then we quickly got a bunch of hits and put up 6 runs.  One of those hits was a fast grounder that zigzagged on the uneven snow and sent James running in one direction only to double back and do a banana-peel slip and fall.

Their team then fired back with a 4-run inning thanks to a double homer off of Paul's bat.

The defense on the hard-snow field had some pros and cons.  The cons were that mobility was very limited so it was tiring and difficult to chase down flyballs.  Also locating the white balls in the white snow to throw them back to the pitcher was no easy task.  The pro, however, was that the grounders would invariably skid across the crusty snow until they sank into a footprint divot where they would wildly spin in place for 10 seconds or so.  James quickly (and annoyingly) got wise to this and became an expert in playing deep and then very slowly fielding grounders for outs since the ball was still technically rolling.

Another condition that needs to be mentioned is that the extreme cold meant that the balls cracked under too much pressure, which meant we had to be careful with our meager 3 balls in inventory.  James took this precaution a little too seriously and tried to do some sort of delicate swinging bunt thing only to foul twice and then make an ill-advised hack at a 3rd pitch in the dirt for a strikeout.  

In the 2nd inning, down to only one ball remaining, and with their team figuring out some crafty defensive maneuvers, we got blanked during our turn to bat.  Their team then countered with a run in their half of the frame, bringing it to a tight 6-5 ballgame headed into the 3rd.

In the 3rd Paul came on in relief, which put Bluth behind the plate, which, according to him, was bad news for us since he used to be a catcher.  James's new strategy from the outfield appeared to be to ask lots of questions to A-Man while he was at the plate.  I was able to identify this quickly from the dugout, and helped A-Man to make sure his mental plate preparation wasn't overly compromised.  Thankfully, he was able to stay laser-focused and pound some doubles mid-sentence.  We had a good streak going and had put up 3 runs when A-Man came to the plate and got another 2-out hit, driving in another run, but also cracking our last wiffleball.  We all conferred at home plate and James proposed that since we were short on time instead of trying to leave the field and find some new wiffleballs we call the game (with their team declared as the victors; and the score doesn't matter -- whatever), and head over to District Taco for some breakfast.  I was worried about what the other Gil Tyrees would think, but James told some profound story (which I've now forgotten) which convinced us all that it was the right decision.  Bluth taught us that by being decisive like this we were able to avoid "going on the road to Abilene" -- a fitting analogy he had learned from his business management ("BusM") days at BYU.  I think it all played out the way R.C. Willey would have wanted.

James explaining the virtues of District Taco's breakfast

One of several moments when Bluth would proclaim, "I really like D.C."

Pregame, In-game, and Postgame Highlights:

• The series of questions James posed to A-Man had the residual benefit of waking up Bluth's 'Inquisitive Adam' side
• The slumber party & wiffle & District Taco good vibes were so strong that James was overcome and responded by giving me an awkward back massage while we were waiting for our food
• James and Adam didn't say their prayers before going to bed

Paul doing his best impersonation of Joe Friend impersonating a Russian.  Bluth relying on artificial energy drinks to enhance his performance.

   Game report by Pace Barker

December 19, 2015 - Game Recap

Pace & A-Man vs. Des, Paul, & Bluth
Score: 11-8
Location: Butler Holmes Park - Field 2 (Arlington, VA)

The day started off with an unpleasant surprise.  Bluth (who claims to have shown up an hour early to play a full-length mental game with his sports psychologist) was the first to arrive on the scene where he witnessed an all-too-familiar scene of wiffle terrorism (see below).  

The once majestic Butler Holmes Park - Field 1; now fenced off as a 'tree preservation area'

We think terrorist drones must be scanning for corresponding dead grass patches of pitchers' mounds and batters' boxes.  We hardly knew ye, Butler Holmes Park - Field 1.

So we considered alternative options and chose the path of least resistance: play in the adjacent patch of grass.  It all seemed fine until about pitch #1 when we soon realized that 1) the field sloped down towards home plate, and, even more challenging, 2) now that the sun was coming out it was directly in the hitter's line of sight.  But we played on all the same.

Glare.  (Much worse than this picture makes it appear.)

The chilly-morning game started off with some dinky singles and walks, and A-Man and I were able to manufacture a pair of runs off Des.  Whenever one of us had a good AB we would bump fists, but in a very delicate way since the cold made it too painful.  Their defense displayed some good leather right away, and Paul was honored to be dubbed 'Department of Defense', and then Bluth dubbed himself 'The No-Fly Zone'.

The Des-Paul-Bluth team then had their turn to try to put up some runs.  Comically, each time a new batter stepped into the box, even though he knew the glare would be tough, he had to laugh at just how bad it was.  On the mound I tried to use all these factors to my advantage, and I was generally cruising until Paul smacked a dead-red fastball right into the middle of my face on my nose and lip.  It was amazing too because in addition to my 5 or so layers of clothing, I was also wearing a ski cap and goggles and a beardo attachment; yet the icy ball somehow found the one uncovered part of my face.  I quickly fell to the ground in pain and shock; and I vividly remember hearing Desi's giggling.  But after a minute or two I collected myself and took the mound to some classy applause.  On top of that single I also surrendered a smooth-stroke dinger to Des, allowing them to notch it up at 2-2 after 1.  

A-Man and I had a decent next few innings offensively, though I myself was pretty useless.  And their stalwart defense didn't last past the 1st inning.  Paul fell victim to the bobble, Bluth got psyched out and dropped an easy popup, and Desi charged in for a short popup but then inexplicably didn't extend his hands to make a play on the ball, allowing it to fall just a few inches in front of his face and drop for a foul.  (I suspect he was too concerned about maintaining his good-looking preppy sweater.)  Immediately following this poor display Desi reminded us that even in his Provo heyday he was awarded 'Worst Defensive Pitcher'.  Now knowing that, none of us judged him too poorly.

On the Pace & A-Man defensive side I was struggling with my command but still managing to rack up quite a few strikeouts thanks largely to the combination of a falling curveball and the blinding sun.  The general pattern for their offense was Bluth would use his psychological skills to frustrate me into walking him, Paul would get some good contact but often for well-defended outs, and Schlienel-Bagel (Des) would take some smooth pitching-wedge cuts and send the ball over the fence for a homer.  

The game was back-and-forth each inning with the Pace & A-Man team maintaining a small lead throughout.  In the 5th and final inning, with only a 2-run lead A-Man came up big with a 4-run double homer off the tin roof of the ramada.  Ever resilient, Bluth then gave Des the reassurance that their team was still in good shape for a number of reasons, chief among them that they still had 'The No-Fly Zone'.

And so we headed into the final frame with an 11-5 lead.  On the mound, as I struggled with my command, I was feeling the dread of giving up the lead and having to watch them celebrate.  I had given up 3 runs and had a runner on with only one out to show for it.  But then I was fortunately able to get a popup, and then faced Paul with 2 down.  I got the count in my favor and went for the curveball which had been staying inside on me all day.  I got it to break and dip right over the middle-high part of the strike zone for the punchout.  Paul didn't like the call, and it's not a great way to end the game, but I firmly stand by it.  

Game Highlights

• Next to the double-homer ramada sit 2 trash cans: 1 recycle and 1 regular.  In an effort to promote earth preservation awareness in the younger wiffle generation it was decided that a ball hit into the recycle can would be awarded a 10x homer, while hitting the plastic ball into the regular trash can would be a minus-10 homer.  
• There was a controversial play when A-Man made a great running catch at a would-be double by Paul.  His speed was so great that after he caught the ball he ran headlong for 3 or 4 bounding lunges until he became almost parallel with the paved ground and had to dive forward into the grassy homerun territory where the ball popped out on contact with the ground.  I ruled it an out given how long he had hung onto it, but was asked to provide some rule clarification, and their team suggested an asterisk in the final scoring might be warranted.
• At times, Bluth's psychological powers extended to his teammates.  For example, when their team needed a big pitch Bluth would yell, "Bulldog!" at Des with great effectiveness.  
• In spending the rest of the day with Des and some members of the Wiffle Wives Club it became apparent that Des was proud of his 4 homers and didn't care too much that the team had lost.
• Bluth opened up to us about trying to overcome his BYU sports addiction.  We all sputtered off some possible alternative forms of entertainment for him but now I feel like it was a missed opportunity for some therapeutic healing.  

Game report by Pace Barker