There's never a dull moment when the Coral Gables A's play Suela.
The Coral Gables A’s, America’s funniest men’s league baseball team, are in the midst of a championship series against our biggest rivals, truly the ying to our yang: Suela. Or perhaps, some iteration of the Suela we’ve battled with for years on end. They have multiple teams, one of which has met us in the finals of the new men’s league we’re playing in.
Game 1 of the best-of-three series was played three weeks ago, with your A’s winning 3-2. Game 2 was supposed to be the following week…but we didn’t end up playing. Here’s a quick rundown of that shitshow.
"Work"
Game 2 was scheduled for 11 AM. There was a game before us on the same field we were set to play on, but some sort of scheduling conflict and miscommunication between the commissioner of our league and the owners of the field led to the game getting pushed back. We were told in the morning that the game would be pushed back an hour and a half. 12:30 start time.
Not so fast! The next message we received was that the game had been suspended altogether. Why? Because Suela didn’t want to play. The reason they gave was that a few of their players had work at 3. These players wouldn’t be able to play the entire game, after which Suela wouldn’t be able to field a team. There was a conversation between the commissioner, Yuca (our OG and the one who usually talks to the commissioner on our behalf), and Suela’s manager. The commissioner decided to grant their request for a suspension.
I have played perhaps 50+ games against this team(s) in my life. On average, I would say the amount of players they bring to a game is between 15 and 18. It is often more. One thing Suela is never in need of is bodies. Claiming they won’t be able to play because a couple guys (outfielders, apparently) have work is, perhaps, the biggest fucking bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life. It is far more likely that the pitcher they wanted to throw at us wasn’t available that weekend, but would be the following one. Therefore, it benefits them greatly to get the game pushed back. Just my speculation, of course.
The commissioner knew they’d have enough players. Yuca knew they’d have enough players. My grandmother knew they’d have enough players. But unfortunately, you can’t just call their bluff. If they say they won’t be able to play due to the unforeseen delay that occurred, they have a sound case. Suela tactics.
My B
I was piiiiissed on our team group chat when we found out the game had been postponed, as were several others. Most of my vitriol was directed at Yuca. I thought he should’ve stood up for us and demanded we play or they forfeit. I was wrong and apologized later, I was just emotional. He really had no leg to stand on in order to help us, even though it was clear what Suela was doing. If people say they have to work, they have to work. You can’t prove that they’ll have enough players. What are you gonna do? Call their bosses?
I hope this excuse was legit and they truly needed to postpone the game. But I doubt it.
You Guys Ready Now?
On to the next week, which was this past weekend. Game 2. Us potentially winning it all and them fighting for their lives.
We were riding with Mike, who closed out Game 1 with three strong innings after Angel made it through six. There’s no telling how many big games Mike has thrown for us, and without fail, he brings his best when the stakes are at their highest. Pitching for four years in the ACC will give you that trait.
On the mound for them was a big righty we’ve never seen before. I never got his name, but apparently, he was a Major Leaguer. He didn’t throw very hard, probably sitting in the low-80s. But with two strikes or with men on base he’d crank it up into the high-80s. Nothing we haven’t seen a million times, but changing speeds and hitting your spots is effective no matter how hard or soft you throw. I hit a single off him in the 1st, but that was followed by an inning-ending double play.
Kicking the Ball Around
Unfortunately for Mike, we weren’t ready to support him on defense. Suela’s lineup is not one with much oomph. They hit hard ground balls and line drives, don’t swing at balls, and rarely strike out. If you can make the plays on defense, you won’t concede much. We were not able to do that, and an unearned run came across in the bottom of the 1st. 1-0, them.
Their pitcher was good. No way around it. Like I said, his fastball was nothing special unless he got into trouble and reared back for a little something extra. His changeup, however, was Major League-caliber. It was there for 55 feet, and then it wasn’t. Gone. The spin and his delivery were identical to his fastball. Just a very good pitch. Despite a leadoff double from Amed, he got through the 2nd unscathed.
Mike had to once again deal with mistakes on our end, though this time he was able to overcome our shortcomings for a scoreless bottom of the 2nd. We once again had traffic on the bases in the top of the 3rd, culminating with a man on second and third and one out. Their pitcher let it eat here, throwing significantly harder and punching out the next two batters to get out of the inning. Still 1-0.
They scored two more runs in the 3rd, and we were once again not doing ourselves any favors by not turning sure outs into sure outs. They had a few big knocks after our mistakes; Suela will capitalize on your mishaps almost every time. They would also not stop whistling and yelling throughout it all, which is normally an accepted part of the game. But what is not part of the game is making all that noise as the pitcher is releasing the ball. That’s when the heckling should stop. It didn’t for them. Bush League stuff. 3-0 after the 3rd.
Just Tune it Out, Bro!
Nothing doing for us in the top of the 4th; I swung through a changeup for a strikeout in my at bat and he went 1-2-3. Before the at bat began, the home plate umpire asked me why we were upset in the last half inning. I told him they shouldn’t be screaming as our pitcher is delivering the pitch. He says, “Why don’t you just tune it out?” I say, “Oh, so can we have a blowhorn in the dugout that we fire off as they’re pitching?” He didn’t respond to this. It was an absurd response by him. But clearly, it meant we would have to deal with this type of thing for the rest of the game.
Home Run ---> Fight ---> Timeout
We finally got a jolt of life in the 5th. After Nick, our player-manager, led the inning off with a walk, Dy’lan, who goes by Dee, took a fastball and uncorked an absolute laser beam way over the wall in left for a two-run jack. The video is below. You can hear Alex, a catcher, yell “OH SHIT! STAY FAIR!” “Oh shit” is the only appropriate reaction to a rocket like this one. The crack of the bat was like thunder.
This homer ruffled feathers. A lot of feathers. Every feather Suela has was ruffled. As Nick, who was on first, rounded third base, someone on their bench told him to go fuck himself. Nick did not respond kindly, naturally. He told them to fuck themselves even louder as he approached home plate. Dee rounded third and was greeted by Nick soon after, but by that point many of their players had left their dugout for a screaming match.
The volume got higher and higher. One confrontation was happening at home plate, while another was happening around first base, in front of our dugout. Their first baseman, who also caused some controversy in our last game, was getting into it with Yuca, who was coaching first base. The argument reached a head when their guy called Yuca a name you should just never call someone, especially someone Hispanic. If I was to say the word with an American accent, it would sound a lot like “Marty Cohen.” You get the picture.
All bets were off for Yuca now, but a guardian angel (his fiancée) swooped in at the perfect moment. She got onto the field via the entrance to the right of our dugout, grabbed his face, and trained it on her until he calmed down, not letting him look away or act impulsively. A strong woman can soothe even the shortest of tempers (like Yuca’s).
Despite a minor settlement down the first base line, the umpires had had enough of the antics. The home plate ump notified us both that we had two minutes to get off the field and into our respective dugouts, or else they were calling the game. Any player who left the dugout before they gave the all-clear would be ejected. Essentially, about 30 grown men got put in time out.
Some went back to the dugout and some didn’t. Their centerfielder, throughout this entire ordeal, did not move. He opted for taking a seat with his legs outstretched, as if he was at the beach. Just observing the chaos. Pretty chill, actually. The umpires didn’t do anything about him, rightfully.
Looking for Trouble
As for their first baseman and shit-starter. He retreated to his dugout but didn’t stay put for long. He exited behind their dugout and started rounding the field in our direction, behind the bleachers. Fabian, our first baseman, happened to be in the stands this entire time, talking to his wife. He saw what was about to happen and intercepted their guy before he could make it any closer to our side of the field. Fabian is a cop; if there was anyone on the field I would have trusted to put this nonsense to bed at that moment, it’s him. He left the bleachers, the two of them had a conversation, and they both went back to Suela's dugout. This is where Fabian made a mistake in the eyes of the umpire, because even though he went there to calm things down, we weren’t supposed to be mingling at all during our time out.
Fabian and their first baseman were tossed. Their centerfielder did some tanning. Yuca’s fiancée is a sweet angel. The game continued. Once the pilot turned off the fasten seatbelt sign and both teams were free to move about the cabin again, I went into the stands to check on my family. My brother is a firefighter who drove down from Ft. Myers to see me. He goes, “What the hell just happened?” Just another game against Suela, my friend.
We didn’t score after Dee’s bomb. 3-2, them.
More Miscues
The next inning was uneventful. Their pitcher made his best pitches when it counted, and Mike returned the favor. Still 3-2 after the 6th.
You’ve heard of shooting yourself in the foot. In the 7th we took a machine gun and blew our feet off. They scored three unearned runs, bringing the score to 6-2.
We never say die, to our credit. I hit a double in my next at bat, then promptly got thrown out at third like a dumbass, on a hard ground ball to the pitcher that I thought would get by him. In this league, the previous out is allowed to run for the catcher if he is on base with two outs. I pinch ran for Jorge after I got thrown out. Amed, an outfielder, got hit by a pitch, then Matt, our third baseman, hit a single to load the bases. I might’ve been able to score from second on the base hit, but I wasn’t about to take a risk down by four late in the game. It didn’t matter, as I scored on a passed ball a few pitches later. 6-3. My double is below. My mom was at the game and filming my at bats, as you’ll hear.
Amed also pitches. He came in to replace Mike after seven excellent innings. Amed faced no issues, going 1-2-3.
It was now the top of the 9th and our last chance. The same dude was in for them. Dee walked, then Alex hit an absolute piss missile for a double. Yuca battled and battled in his at bat, eventually bringing Dee home with a ground ball to the right side to make it 6-4. We could not muster any more A’s magic, however. 6-4, final.
Cake and Old Friends
It was my birthday last Sunday. It would’ve been a lovely birthday present to win a championship, but it was not to be. Still, cupcakes and snacks after a baseball game is second to none. My grandparents, mom, and brother were there; you can thank them for the goodies. A few A’s legends showed up as well, thinking they’d be able to see us win a championship. Here’s a quick rundown of that lineup.
Miguel: Legendary manager. Ran the team for nearly two decades. Bald.
Andres (Chicho): Third baseman and middle-of-the-lineup force. Colombian. Has cankles.
Willy: Great hitter and pitcher. Throws really weird (present tense, since he’ll be back next season).
Alex (AA): Former ace. Great hair/beard combo. Threw super slow.
Chico’s son, Franco, wasn’t always into baseball, though his skills and love for the game are starting to develop as he enters middle school. He was there for our game with his dad, witnessing all the debauchery that goes with men’s league baseball. This seems to have inspired him, as he hit a game-winning double in his game later that day.
That and eating birthday cake with the boys were the highlights of the game for me. There are worse ways to spend a Sunday morning, even if you lose.
We’re on to Game 3. Winner-take-all for the championship. Wouldn’t have it any other way!
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