The Mechanic • August 12th, 2012
BROOKLYN – Make no mistake, a clubhouse guy has tremendous value–they hit in the clutch, spirits always breaching the high water-mark, the dugout squad-glue that is essential to winning YFS Championships. One of the best clubhouse guys in the league is The Local Boy Hobbs. Born in Flint, Michigan in the shadows of a Genesse County General Motors plant, Hobbs later moved to Detroit proper before loading a knapsack and jumping a Greyhound headed for the Big Apple.
Hobbs is one of those YFS players who's quietly done just about everything, He quietly had a clutch hit in the 2010 RLCS that helped his team advance to the World Series, Then he quietly won his first title in '10. He quietly banged an entire Community College 14-deep dance squad in spring training of this year in West Palm Beach Florida. And when Hobbs finds his way onto your roster, you can't help but feel like it's all of a sudden a goddamn great team.
But despite the troupe mentally that all YFS sluggers must possess–be it big or small–there is another side to the YFS athlete, one that is pure solo artist, who just wants his time alone with just a spotlight and a saxophone, and simply wants to lay down some sexy golden riffs to be heralded in the papers the next day. Team mentality takes a backseat so the stickball busker can have a crack at releasing a chart-topping hit possibly titled "Hey ya'll, I just dropped my nuts on the hood of your recently turtle-waxed Cutlass".
Hobbs clobbered his first home run at York last Sunday, and one to remember as it was a monster depth charge. Moments after it was hit the 4 outfielders gathered and immediately produced a denominational assortment of bibles complete with other official-looking scribed shit and collectively put hands upon it all co-swearing that Hobbs just deployed a HR that traveled far into the eastbound lanes of the Brooklyn Queens Expressway.
But nobody threw the Local Boy on any shoulders, nobody produced an iced-down shopping cart of champagne, and no coeds popped out of the wazz-shined ivy to roll the slugger's cigar. Simply because nobody knew it was his first. After 4 years the local boy hit one out and like the lunchpaler he is, he punched back in on his dugout shift and got back to work on the suds 'n reefer and to watch some more time pass. And although Hobbs and his Red teammates were swept on the day, it couldn't overshadow the fact that this day was a celebration of the Local Kid. "I could get hit by a busload of skanks tomorrow and i'd be ready to meet my maker now" said Hobbs who was reached for comment via rotary phone.
The 3-bill set of games on Sunday was one-sided as the dominant BLACK squad made up of Soy Peligroso, The Secret Agent, The Wanderer, The Lone Wolf and The Mechanic took on the REDS comprised of El Matador, The Surgeon, Local Kid Hobbs and The Diamond Haas.
Despite multiple comeback attempts by the REDS, The BLACK Rain always had an answer which came in the form of crop-thirsty contagious hitting. The Lone Wolf came down from the surrounding hills for the first time this year with his wolfpack in tow and had a solid day at the dish, also solid was how many Bud Howliterzs he loaded into his musket on the day.
A regular hit and sudfest by all as the returning beach-goers welcomed the much needed 13-jack BQE downpour. Each lumber-cracked bomb a reaffirming reminder that America's glory burrito is as stuffed as ever.
The YFS Brooklyn Dog Days of Season 4 roll on as the next game is set for this Sunday, first pitch 1:05.
G1: B: 13, R: 10 (11 innings)
G2: R: 3, B: 13
G3: B: 7, R: 5
HRs: Surgeon; 3 (43), Mechanic; 3 (9), S. Agent; 2 (26), S. Peligroso; 2 (11), Wanderer; 2 (26), Local Boy; 1 (1)