Showdown
Game 94: July 20, 2006
Rangers (49-47), 4
Red Sox (58-36), 6
L: Bryan Corey (1-1)
W: Curt Schilling (12-3)
H: Manny Delcarmen (8)
S: Mike Timlin (2)
The showdown occurred on a lonesome, dusty hill sitting in a field of green. The plain was not usually this verdant, but constant rains showered new life on the ancient plain.
So many battles with distant tribes played out here. From the beaver hunters of the lands east bounded by rivers, with whom the home clan tussled with in key struggles about 43 and 27 turns of the seasons ago, to the savages from the lands south subsumed by concrete, who were vanquished at last six turns ago.
The skirmish was supposed to happen during the Planting Moon, but the floods swept away the gathered armies. The invading troupe vowed vengeance against their eastern foes and overran the field brandishing their crudely-wrought weapons on the twentieth day of the Blood Moon.
After a hard-fought conflict that saw gains and losses throughout the day, the home tribe at last overcame the onslaught. The tribe chieftain Jason “Big Thighs” Varitek mocked the encroaching forces’ lack of skilled warriors. He had his men gather around him to celebrate the triumph.
“They came here and thought they will defeat us with their cudgels,” he laughed as he gnawed on the jerky supplied to him by Mike “Sure Shot” Timlin. “They did not know that one of their own has joined our side.” He then winked at men gathered around him. They knew that he spoke of the grizzled hurler who provided them with meat in scarce times.
Sure Shot was born in the land of red necks but traveled throughout the peoples of the world learning their ways as if they were his own. At last he found an abode for his heart in the brotherhood of red feet.
“Yes, Hot Shot has fought three days straight and required respite. I answered the call when Blood Foot was unable to complete his task,” assented Sure Shot. “And this one helped the entire tribe with the sureness of his attack.” The older man patted the back of one of his protégés, Manny “Little Field” Delcarmen.
Curt “Blood Foot” Schilling blustered. “This warrior did not relent. I attacked ceaselessly until most of my enemies were trounced. Those rangers, those evil-doers from distant lands, did not witness the dishonor of the people of the red feet. I did not rest until they were annihilated, even if my arm would be made useless as the gristle that Sure Shot renders from the deer he slaughters. It was Shine Head who did not permit me to face those last three vermin. I was so close to completing the joyous task of plowing through their lines and salting the land they would till.”
“Enough, Blood Foot.” Big Thighs spoke at last, motioning gently yet firmly for his garrulous tribesman to be silent. “You should have kept your original name, ‘Ever Jest.’” Barely stiffled laughter rose above the clan. “Also, when we travel beyond the great mountains of the west, you will not be permitted to journey any farther south than the range of the redwoods. I understand there is some large gathering of your strange ilk in the missionary lands.”
