Archives: We Dropped 13 on Them and I Briefly Believed in God

SUMMER 2026 — GAME 6. Good Wood 13, whoever-the-hell 3.

I am not a journalist. I am a man with a scorebook and a drinking problem that happens to coincide with Tuesdays. What I saw in Game 6 was not rec softball. It was a coordinated beating administered by people who have jobs in the morning.

Taylor Rabalais — new, quiet, already bored — went 3-for-3 with a double and a triple and three runs. Six extra-base hits in three games on the year. If you are keeping a binder, write do not pitch to this man in the margin and then pitch to him anyway because this is Men's E and nobody listens.

Ty Martinez went 3-for-3 and pitched like the other team had insulted his warranty. Ben Jones — Benny the Jet, glue guy, will not make the reel — went 3-for-3 with four RBI, which is the most violent thing a reliable person can do. Brooks Vehslage, self-appointed GM, dropped another nuke, which in this league is an out, which is the dumbest rule in North Texas, which did not stop him from doing it because some men cannot help themselves.

We tweaked the lineup. Thomas hit seventh. The top of the order terrorized. The dugout chirped. Alfie was not even in this one and I could still hear him.

This is the tape we will play in the locker room in September when someone suggests we are just happy to be here. We are not happy to be here. We are here to put 13 on the board and go drink a beer we have not earned.

Record at the time: a messy 2-3 with a 0-19 in the middle like a crime scene. Game 6 was the apology. Fall is the sequel.