Juice, Washout play Series for the ages

PRESTON SAHABU, Seattle Wiffle

 

For months following the conclusion of this Series, I did not feel up to the task of recounting it. It was, without a doubt, the finest wiffle I have ever witnessed in this league. The pitching was masterful; the fielding, fearless; the hitting, tenacious. Momentum twisted relentlessly in the hot August air as both teams clawed their way towards the Leaning Golden Man.

 

The Series between 100% Real Juice and West Coast Washout is an immortal moment in the history of Seattle Wiffleball. I hope I do it justice.

 

Final preparations.

Game 1: the duel

 

“That’s how it starts, boys.”  --Jeremy Salvo

 

A fresh, crisp morning greeted both teams to the dewy field.

 

Aaron Hunter took the hill for the Juice. The crowd blinked, and the top of the first was over with a walk and three strikeouts. Hunter worked at a blistering pace: loading and firing, loading and firing, over and over again.

 

Washout’s Max Melendez jogged out to the mound. He maintained the crisp tempo: loading and firing, loading and firing, over and over again. Melendez allowed a hit but struck out the side.

 

Second inning: rinse, wash, repeat. (Matt Morris laid out at third base to snag a sure hit from Conor Roberson.)

 

Third inning: same story.

 

Fourth: again.

 

It was repetitive, and it was beautiful. Hunter’s slider and Melendez’s riseball danced and darted into the zone and away from bats. Tentative rallies of walks and singles were crushed with strikeout upon strikeout upon strikeout.

 

No mercy.

 

Jason Matt sprinted to first. Leading off the top of the fifth, he had cued the ball up the third base line. The throw went wide, the first baseman dove across the baseline, and Jason touched the safety bag. Then he was on the ground, flattened by a bang-bang play. Jason limped off for a pinch runner, but the leadoff hitter was aboard. Jack Kineke stroked a single into center and Dan Rish earned yet another walk, loading the bases with no outs.

 

The Juice needed an easy out in the worst way. They got it on the next pitch as Jeremy Salvo popped out. With one out on the board and Hunter on the mound, the situation was still dire, but there was light at the end of the tunnel.

 

That light was a train. That train was Andrew Winter.

 

Clutch.

 

The crack of the bat would not be denied. The ball screamed down the left field line. It hurdled the fence. The Washout sideline erupted. Absolute pandemonium.

 

With four runs to work with, Melendez punched six more strikeouts and slammed the door. He outpitched Hunter with an 18-strikeout shutout, putting Washout one win away from the title.

 

FINAL: West Coast Washout 4 || 100% Real Juice 0

Game 2: the struggle

 

“We’ve never made it to a game three.”  --Epo Olivares

 

The temperature crept up as both teams took a much-needed breather, reflecting on the last game and planning for the next. A joyful Washout squad was buoyed by Melendez’s effort, hoping that Dan Rish would dip into the same magic and carry them to the title. Juice found themselves against the wall, and starter Epo Olivares darkly noted that their history of being the sweepers -- or the swept. Each starter carried sparkling reputations into the game, so a second pitcher’s duel seemed entirely possible, perhaps even likely.

 

But as the dew lifted from the grass, that possibility evaporated, and the next six innings became a knock-down-drag-out dogfight. Both Rish and Olivares struggled to dodge the bats and find the zone in the simmering heat, issuing singles and walks nearly every inning, sometimes tightroping their way out of the jam, other times surrendering precious runs. Flushed and sweating, the two of them labored through their outings.

 

Washout drew first blood in the bottom of the first, controlling the strike zone against a wayward Olivares to collect six walks and two runs. Juice returned fire in the top of the second, slicing the diamond with a series of singles to even up the score, though Jeremy Salvo’s diving grab on a Matt Guindon liner to right field prevented at least two more runs from scoring. Each side was stringing together a couple jabs, runners and fielders bobbing around pitchers and batters, strikeouts weaving in and out of singles and walks.

 

Effectively wild.

 

 

The haymaker came in the top of the third as the Juice broke off four runs against a wild Rish and abstract defensive play. Tim Haggerty delivered a clutch two-out single up the middle to drive in two runs, which was followed by an Aaron Hunter RBI sun-double that was a different kind of clutch, more the “if you can’t find it, grind it” variety. When the dust settled the game seemed out of reach for the Washout, with Olivares staked to a four-run lead and only four frames to go, yet the home side refused to go quietly and continued to work walk after walk, turning up the pressure on the Juice defense.

 

The breakthrough came in the bottom of the fourth as Salvo clobbered a two-run donger over the center field fence, awakening his sideline from the hypnotically hot afternoon towards a possible comeback. The next few frames built on that belief as Rish beared down and squeezed the Juice bats dry, leaving the Washout down only two entering the bottom of the sixth.

 

Salvo had the opportunity to repeat his fourth inning heroics with a runner on first and no outs, but succumbed to a foul tip after working a full count. Determined to pick up their captain, Andrew Winter and Max Melendez earned crucial walks to load the bases for Austin Cudworth, who drove a hard ground ball up the middle that tied Olivares up in knots, forcing in a run.

 

The lone ranger.

 

Olivares stood alone in the center of the diamond -- the tying run on third, the winning run on second, the seventeenth and eighteenth outs elusive. His face was washed in red, burned in the midday sun, poured over with sweat. The pitcher’s mound had become a growing dust bowl, torn up and cooked dry over the last five and a half innings, and it was about to swallow him whole.

 

Olivares stood alone in the center of the diamond -- he pounded in two strikeouts, and the Juice escaped by the grit of their teeth.

 

FINAL: 100% Real Juice 6 || West Coast Washout 5

Game 3: the finish

 

“You know what sucks about this? ... That I’m up.”  --Adam Brickett

 

A grounds crew quickly addressed the travesty of a mound, working in soil and water to make it truly playable. Each side took the moment to sigh: the Juice relieved of near disaster, the Washout wistful of near triumph, both exhausted in the sweltering conditions. A smoky haze had settled in the park, a heavy blanket trapping the tension of the final game.

 

Epo Olivares jogged back to the rubber, and the final game of the 2018 season was under way. Though the last two games were absolute classics, every inning of this one was packed with intrigue, daring play, and raw emotion. 30 for 30 would be so lucky to cover it.

 

In the early going it appeared that Olivares would have the upper hand against the Washout lineup, reining in his control and keying in on the strike zone. Opposing starter Dan Rish remained as wild as in the previous game, but it was a small miracle that he was pitching at all -- he had thrown an eleven inning marathon over two games the week before, so combined with the six innings he just threw, he was working on his eighteenth in eight days. A gutty effort.

 

Flaring tempers escalated the drama to a fever pitch. In the top of the second, Jack Kineke prepared to bat against Olivares, looking to cash in with the bases loaded and two outs. He went down swinging and slammed his bat in violent frustration. It bent and snapped at the wooden handle, the blue plastic holding on by a thread. The broken bat was tossed aside. Austin Cudworth covered for his fallen teammate in the top of the third, stroking a two-out double to center field to score Rish. An errant throw into the infield allowed Max Melendez to scamper home as well, giving Washout a slim 2-0 lead.

 

The Juice would claw one back in the bottom half of the frame as Rish was lifted for Melendez, who was not nearly as sharp as he was in the first game. He walked the bases loaded and Duncan Robinson shot a grounder down the third-base side for an RBI. Aaron Hunter relieved Olivares in the top of the fourth and set down the side in order on three strikeouts, showing no signs of slowing down from game one.

 

By this point the sun was directly overhead and Cowen was getting absolutely blasted. Hot air shimmered all around the park. Melendez continued to look for his control in the bottom of the fourth, walking the first four batters to tie the game at two. Smelling blood in the water with the bases loaded and no outs, the Juicers looked to add on and let Hunter carry them to victory.

 

After the previous batter struck out, lefty Matt Morris stepped in. On a 1-2 count, he too was rung up, but on a controversial check swing. The league’s tradition of careful competition withered under such high stakes, with Morris angrily contesting the call to all bystanders while the Washout would not be budged. Words were exchanged, dirt was kicked, and the bat was tossed; eventually play resumed. Melendez buckled down for his third strikeout of the inning and escaped with the tie intact.

 

Andrew Winter came to the plate in the top of the fifth. With a man on first and one out, there was not much of a rally brewing against the formidable Hunter, who had struck out four of the five he had faced so far. A scoreless deadlock and extras loomed.

 

Hunter was rolling.

 

Winter took that deadlock and drilled it straight into left field. The outfielder stuck up his hand, but the ball was struck with such fury that it ricocheted up and straight back, right over the fence, as if cursed by Jose Canseco himself. A tie-breaking home run, a back-breaking home run, once again off the bat of Andrew “Dingers” Winter. Just like the first game, he had turned the Hunter into the hunted.

 

With the score standing at 4-2, the Juice were desperate for runs. They did not find any in the bottom of the fifth as Melendez induced two easy pop ups and earned another strikeout. Hunter, unfazed from the traumatic fifth, cleaned up the Washout in order in the top of the sixth.

 

The stage was set for the last stand of 100% Real Juice, and in a turn of pure poetry they were also down two runs, like West Coast Washout in the second game. In a surprising but sensible move, Jeremy Salvo opted for a fresh arm out of the bullpen in Kineke. The stuff looked electric, an arsenal unique from Melendez and Rish, seemingly ready to close the door and secure the title.

 

Though the first two at-bats were battles, Kineke would prevail with two strikeouts.

 

Matt Guindon quietly entered the box, his team up against the wall. Strike one smacked against the zone. Strikes two and three felt inevitable, and the writing on the wall seemed clear as day.

 

*thwack*

 

Guindon singled on a hard ground ball to the second baseman. A spark.

 

Morris avenged his contested strikeout by working a walk. A flame.

 

Sam LaCroix walked on four golden pitches. Hope was still alive, refusing to die in the darkness of two outs, the winning run now on base.

 

Duncan Robinson, the unlucky outfielder, avenged himself with an RBI walk. 4-3. Washout fielders could only watch in horror as their hurler walked the world, searching in vain for the eighteenth and final out.

 

Time was called to stem the bleeding. Salvo and Rish joined Kineke on the mound to discuss their options. Adam Brickett was next up, standing by the backstop with a bat in hand, nervously talking with teammates and cursing the fate that brought him to this moment. The Juice bench spoke with the scorekeeper about the long mound visit, and the scorekeeper approached the mound to break it up, to finish the Series one way or another. Rish began warming up.

 

Brickett dug into the box. 1-0. 2-0. 2-1. 3-1. Walk. Tie game.

 

Rish grimaced. This was his twentieth inning in eight days. Undoubtedly the ace of the staff, Washout would not be here without his tenacity and talent -- but even aces are mortal.

 

Gabe Showalter, unsung captain of the Juicers, picked up his bat. This would end here.

 

1-0. 2-0. 3-0. Walk. Ball game. Joy and agony shared the field.

 

 

FINAL: 100% Real Juice 5 || West Coast Washout 4

 

The final score.

 

 

2018 World Series Champions: 100% Real Juice

 

“O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,

The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won.”

 

After two years of being fiercely competitive runners-up, always the bridesmaid and never the bride, 100% Real Juice have captured their first Seattle Wiffleball title!

 

Juice raises the Leaning Golden Man.