Best. Game. Ever.

Jason alluded to this game in his suggestion for all-time greatest play; I believe he dubbed it "The Original." (Though the archives will show it as "The Throw." Discuss.)
But for those who came late to the Rod, or for those who don't remember, here's the recap, as first penned by Jason Klein and entered into posterity by ... me. The day was june 8, 2005. ...


Yes, yesterday's game was a great one.
Some would say, a game for the ages. Some would say, the best come-from-behind victory in the history of Team Ramrod ... if not of kickball itself; however, all would agree that the final out made the moment.
I could be wrong, but here is how I choose to remember it:

The score was 13 to 12. Good guys up. Two outs, tying run on second. The air, heavy as Louie Anderson on a donut run. Could Team Ramrod hold on? The crowd of international supporters was on the edge of their respective seats.

All eyes were on the grizzled pitcher, a master of his craft. A single bead of sweat had formed on his seasoned brow -- luckily, it was impeded by his macho headband. The pitch was rolled. It was perfect.

At the plate hunched the vile Bud Baller Captain. Her eyes ablaze with fury and drunken hate for her smart, talented and ever-so-pretty foes. She had seen her precious 10-to-1 lead slip out of her grasp. As the ball traced toward the plate, her hooves kicked up a mighty sea of dust and sent the ball flying across the diamond like a rotary telephone at a Russell Crowe family potluck.

Time stood still ... somewhere in a faraway land, an infant cried ... a dog barked ... a thousand monkeys typed on a thousand typewriters.

The red streak that had once been a perfectly fine kickball hurled toward right field. Surely a hume run. Or was it?

It has been said that everyone is placed upon the earth for a reason, and this was the First Baseman's reason; every hour of his life, an unwitting rehearsal for this moment. A legend was born. Years from now, grandchildren grown old will tell their own grandchildren that they were there the day the First Baseman's Herculean leap swatted the ball out of the air.

Furious, the Captain thundered toward first, every step a testimony to her pact with Satan. Flames leapt at her heels and unimaginable evil burned in her eyes.

Destiny, we name you Ramrod! For the First Baseman -- sensibly adorned in trousers -- would not be denied his place in history. Errors be damned! He had no choice but to let the ball fly. He did so ... and "The Throw" had been born, a gift to the human race.

An unholy howl came from the Captain's twisted face as "The Throw" struck home. She slumped to the ground. Her attempt to slide was futile. She had been vanquished. The Bud Ballers were no more.

Good had once more triumphed over evil.
Until next week ...