Hoping to not suffer the same fate as Willie Randolph over at that other Mets team, I led my Berea Mets onto the field last night with only the faintest hope of pulling one out -- at 1-4 we faced the team that had an 8-0 record.

We were realistic. And we were short-handed -- this league allows 11 fielders but we only had 10 who showed up. And after our victory on Sunday I had returned the line-up to rotate all players through the positions, regardless of their level.

But then an interesting thing started to happen. The game stayed close. We held them scoreless in the first, and we even turned a rare double-play. In the second our bats got hot. We scored a few runs; in their half of the inning they got some back. We see-sawed. Every play was an adventure. A few calls by the umpire were, uh, questionable, and I felt myself ready to pull a Lou Piniella but I held myself together. The fourth inning ended and our game had reached its hour allotment -- but the score was tied and they allowed the game into extra innings.

We scored a bunch of runs in the top of the inning and things looked good. Every play was a gut-buster. But we gave all the runs back in the bottom of the inning and we lost. I walked off the field consumed by fury at the umpire who had demolished our chance for an upset victory. Eh, just a kid.

Anyway, I told the team how great a performance it was -- shorthanded in the field we still came just inches from beating the undefeated team. And as we migrated back to the parking lot a few parents who'd seen the plays better than I did assured me that we really did win that game. Oh well.

Cookie and Mojo both reached base, though Cookie over-ran a fly ball in left center, and Mojo let a throw to second bounce from his glove... Eh, better luck next time. (And we're going out tonight to practice!)