
Caru#3528
Season 20, Day 33
CRACK!!!
Another one. Long, high, going well past the warning track, never a chance of catching it. Summers Preston, for the second time tonight, begins a long, leisurely trot around the bases. The Dale have hit yet another home run. You'd think they'd be happy. Instead the Miami bench sits in stunned silence, watching the scoreboard, hoping against hope it might work normally, just this one time.
The display flickers. The score now reads 4 to minus 3. The Dale, against all logic, lose 2 more runs.
Pandemonium. Disbelief. Humiliation. Utter chaos. Bats and balls go flying across the dugout. The players lost their remaining words a long time ago; the only sounds to come from the bench are exasperated cries of despair.
As Michelle Sportsman prepares to face the next batter, a song begins playing over the loudspeakers. It is at once foreign and depressingly familiar.
Wyatt Dovenpart leans against the dugout wall and lets out a heavy sigh. They know perfectly well that this is not a song the Dale would play in their own stadium, certainly not in this situation; and there is only one member of the traveling Tacos entourage who would know their way into the soundbooth at Worldwide Field.
Jomgy Rolsenthal takes a third strike looking. She never had a chance, not with the deafening tune of Eduard Khil's Ya ochen rad, ved ya, nakonets, vozvrashchajus domoy ringing in her ears.
"I swear, one of these days I'm going to kill that peanut."