R.I.P. Smokey

Lemme break it down for ya:

Bottom of the 8th, my starting pitcher is starting to get tired. First Hilltopper singles down the line, second one comes up to sacrifice. Bunt goes down the first base line, and my C has a brainfart and despite me hitting 'O' to throw to first, he stands there with his thumb up his ass. So 1st and 2nd, next batter lays a bunt down the 3rd base line - my 3rd baseman has a brain fart, won't throw to first. Bases loaded, and their RF comes up to jack one over the right field line.

I'm not one to pout and I take my losses, so I finish the game and hit Rematch.

Bit different this time, as the Hilltoppers take a 1-0 early lead. My RF comes up in the 3rd inning with 2 on, works a 2-0 count and I get a hanging curveball that I jack over the left field fence.

So I cruise into the 8th again, and instinctively go to my bullpen for fear of the 8th inning tattoo I got branded onto my ass. First batter doubles in the gap against my ace middle reliever, next one bunts that catches my 3rd baseman in an odd position, I try to field it and run to 3rd for the tag but he reaches for him after he goes by...ya, here goes. 1st & 3rd, none out:

Mike Patrick: The visiting team is really starting to make a comeback here.
My son: (just waking up from his nap) waaaah, waaaaah
Me: hold on bud!
Patrick: We're seeing some incredible ball here.
Kyle Peterson: We sure are Mike, but I think this pitcher is starting to struggle.
Son: waaaah, waaaah
Me: another second bud, be right there.
Patrick: IT WAS GONE BEFORE IT LEFT THE BAT!
Peterson: THERE WAS NO DOUBT ABOUT THAT ONE!
Me: YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!

*BAM!*

Rest in peace, brother.