Varsity Aces

The intimidation factor

I should have known this was going to happen. After all the training, all the nights dissecting video tape, my at bat with Chelsea Ott was postponed. Apparently, her athletic director doesn’t want her to get hurt midseason. It’s understandable, of course, given my lightning quick bat, otherworldly reflexes and mutant strength. We now have to wait until the end of the season, which will only prolong the inevitable blast over the right field fence. I am also happy to announce that I am off the Creatine shakes. After multiple trips to the bathroom, I’ve decided they’re not worth the muscle mass. In the meantime, I urge you to get a look at my opponent, Chelsea, who is pitching for a good cause Friday in a Breast Cancer Awareness game against Hawthorne (4 p.m., Lakeside Middle School). The team’s shirts will read “strikeout breast cancer” and their uniform accessories will be pink. I will be there as well, no doubt intimidating Chelsea with how quickly I take notes. (That’s right, Chelsea, I can jot down two words before your pitch hits home plate. And yes, that does translate to bat speed).

Things Getting Testy

(I, the sports reporter, will go up against Pompton Lakes softball pitcher Chelsea Ott in one at bat tentatively scheduled for the first week in May)

Now it’s personal. Chelsea Ott is going to pay. When I asked the all-county pitcher to give comments about our upcoming challenge, Chelsea responded with “my little sister plays little league, are you sure you don’t want to try that?”

She didn’t stop there. I also e-mailed her with a friendly warning, explaining that I performed quite well at the batting cage yesterday.

Her response: “I’m glad you hit in the cages but next time let the 8-year-old girl go in that cage and you try the one for full size people. …I think you may have been confused. The numbers on the outside of the cage are the speed, not your age group.”

Well, Chelsea, let me show you something: 

… Yeah, that’s my muscle. It’s real. And no, it’s not digitally enhanced or air-brushed.

And why don’t you take a look at this:

 

… That’s my game face. People tell me it’s scary. I’ve witnessed many an interviewee crumble under that glare. I’m talking about one-word answers to complex questions. 

I was thinking about taking the first pitch, maybe it’d be a strike and you’d feel good about yourself. I would have let you walk away with a moral victory. Now, no mercy.

IT'S ON LIKE DONKEY KONG

VS.

The battle is set. I, Stefan Bondy, the sports reporter, versus all-county softball pitcher Chelsea Ott in an all-stakes at bat. This is my opportunity to dispel the popular theory that "those that can't do it, write about it." Well guess what Chelsea, that rule doesn't apply here. Chelsea  had the audacity to say all I had to do was foul off a pitch to win. I had to chuckle. I'm thinking home run. Anything less, and this three-time New Jersey Press Association award winner isn't satisfied.  The  date and time of this all-important challenge has yet to be determined, but I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, I've already started my training that mostly  includes stretching.Tomorrow, I'll get on the nutritional supplements. Be afraid Chelsea, be very afraid.

My mountainous trek

Woah, West Milford is far. I don’t understand how I can drive 25 miles, from urban Paterson to rural West Milford, and still be in the same county. That was the case Tuesday, when I saw Pompton Lakes defeat the Highlanders, 4-2, in a game that probably decided the top-seed in the Passaic County tournament. I was reminded of my surroundings when I overheard a discussion between parents about a wild yak sighting at one of the games. Apparently, there was also a bear sighting. Speaking of predators, Chelsea Ott is intense in the circle. She throws the ball in her glove with ferocity between pitches, then takes a couple intimidating deep breaths before unleashing a blazer. It’s surprising because she’s so nice and easy-going in person. I’ve wondered how I would manage in an at bat against her. I almost asked for an opportunity while doing a preseason article on Ott in March, but I chickened out. She had another great game Tuesday and here is the game story.

Getting my eclectic on

I branched out last week and had my first news piece published in Tuesday's edition of the Herald News, an interesting story about innovative treatments for brain injury patients at the Kessler Institute in West Orange. Channel 9 news picked up the story and interviewed me for a segment that can be found here. Yes, I wore a suit. I also went to opening day at Shea Stadium on Tuesday and wrote about the home run apple. I learned how the apple operates and that Mets fans will be upset if the apple doesn't make the move to the new stadium. I'm back to softball Saturday and will be covering Wayne Valley-Hawthorne. Looking forward to it. Also, I'm putting together an article on slap hitting so if anybody knows of "slappers" in the area, please give me a heads up.

As thoughts of bubble gum. ...

I saw heaven at a softball game. I saw a bucket of bubble gum. It wasn't a lot of packs stacked on top of one another. Not a whole bunch of loose pieces gathered together in a plastic bag. I saw, for the first time in my 28 years on earth, an entire bucket of bubble gum on the Pompton Lakes bench --  Price Club style -- that the players tossed back with little concern for their next dental appointment.  (By the way, not one piece was offered to this sugar-starved reporter).

I'm not sure if this is a tradition. But it should be. And, it should be part of the tradition to hand out pieces to hardworking reporters in the bleachers. I  saw it give the Cardinals power as they played flawlessly in a 4-0 victory over Saddle Brook. Me, on the other hand, got by on a mint and a jolly rancher
that I found on the floor of my car (yes, they were wrapped).

Chilly softball

It was cold in the mountains of Haskell, where I saw Lakeland defeat DePaul in a close, up-and-down softball game (5-4 final score). It was the kind of cold that makes your nose run without warning, forcing you to wipe away anything threatening the mouth area.

So, today, I had two jobs: I had to keep stats and stay warm.

Few understand the difficulties of handling both tasks, especially for the ill-prepared like myself. No, I didn't have a jacket. No, I didn't have gloves. But my biggest mistake was packing two pens instead of a pencil. For some reason, pens stop working in cold weather. They give up, retreating into some sort of ink shell. Their failures are unpredictable, often mid-note or, worst of all, mid-quote. So if you at Back Beach Park on Thursday afternoon, you might remember the fellow with no jacket and no gloves who was constantly digging in his pockets for the blue pen, or the black pen, or whichever pen might be working.

Despite my tribulations, I wrote this gamestory:

Got Metal?

There was something missing from opening day, at least on the softball diamond. Upon the advice of the NJSIAA Medical Advisory Committee, metal cleats/spikes will not be permitted during the 2008 softball season. I understand the reasoning, the safety concerns, but why only softball? Is there a danger that is not apparent in baseball? I would like to hear thoughts from both sides. …

High School Blowouts

When does a rout turn into an unnecessary humiliation? There is often no rulebook for coaching one-sided games in high school sports, and bad feelings have become an all too common residue in North Jersey’s disparate athletic conferences.

So-called laughers can become insulting, demoralizing, even bullying. Nearly every high school team in Passaic County has experienced blowouts on both sides of the scoreboard. The situation is uncomfortable for everyone, a problem magnified by the age of the athletes involved.

Although some states have specific mercy rules for various team sports, the NJSIAA has thus far limited its legislation to softball and baseball — leaving the handling and severity of blowouts to the coaches. Interpretations of the “unwritten rules” range widely. Some coaches handle blowouts delicately, going to great lengths to maintain a respectful final score. Others refuse to compromise their team’s progress, all too aware of the pressure to win or secure their athlete’s postseason honors.

Differing philosophies have resulted in angry exchanges during post-game handshakes — hostility that accrues and resonates through years of league play. It can also demoralize programs and athletes for years.

Adventures in skydiving

Note: I wrote this after jumping out of an airplane over the summer.

I can't breathe. I'm having a heart attack. I'm going to die. I can't believe I got pushed out of a plane by an Australian. Curse you Crocodile Dundee.
Wait ... this is actually fun. I'm flying. I'm skydiving.
Why isn't the ground getting closer? Am I even moving?
Uh oh, can't breathe again.
Just don't look down. Head up, legs up, just like the guy told me.
Whoa, my face is coming off. Is that even possible? Skin don't fail me now.
Holy $%&#! I'm flying! Don't pull the parachute Mr. Dundee, I'm having fun.

I always figured skydiving to be a fool's practice, clumped in the same category as sword swallowing and Marco Polo in a shark tank.

Skydivers are crazy, I thought, and obviously don't have much regard for life.
It certainly wasn't an activity for a rational man like myself.

Yet there I was last summer, soaring 13,000 feet above New Jersey with a man named Kiwi strapped to my back.

I had almost escaped this scenario a few hours earlier. I was in my car, key in the ignition, ready to go home with my limbs happily in place.

But my girlfriend took a shot at my masculinity — or lack thereof. So I caved, not just to my girlfriend's attack, but to the handful of experienced jumpers who told me "It was so much fun."

"Maybe to you suicidal psychos," I thought.