right fielder

Perfection at it’s finest... (Jeff Atkins imagine)

Originally posted by wkom


Prompt: Reader is more thicker than most girls, she is dating jeff and at a baseball games some girls pick on her and she begins to feel insecure, jeff comforts her.


Y/n cheered as she watched her man run for his life to get to home plate, it was the semi-finals and Liberty high was playing against one of their biggest rivals to compete in the finals. 

The game was tied 8-8 and when it was Jeff’s turn to bat he swung and smacked the ball so hard that the sound of the bat echoed throughout the field, the ball soared over the entire field and landed in the far right corner of the outside field. Quickly dropping his bat as the opposing team ran for the ball, he sprinted for his life.


Watching as he ran past first and second, the right fielder threw the ball to second so that he could throw it to third base, everyone in the stands were stood up and cheering loudly as Jeff passed third base and to home plate. The second base men threw to late and as Jeff slid on home plate the umpire yelled out,


The cheers intensified as the rest of the team ran out on the field and hugged him while jumping up and down with joy. 


She screamed along side the other students and parents, Jeff broke away from the group and pointed at her, mouthing ‘i love you’ while she mouthed the words back. 

The team ran back in the dug out and prepared to bat one more time since there was only a few minutes left and they only had one out. As Monty was getting prepared to bat, Jeff peaked his head out from the dugout and caught y/n’s attention.

“I love you baby!”

Y/n laughed at her adorable boyfriend and repeated the words back to him, as he put his head down y/n paid attention to the game. 

“How is he with her? She’s so fat and ugly.”

“Girl you already know that Jeff is only with her out of pity.” 

Even though she paid no mind to the rude and obnoxious girl, it still stung deeply. Y/n was never one for caring about insecurities, she knew that she was thicker than most girls and that she had a slightly bigger clothes size but she didn’t care. She had learned to accept and love herself, but now hearing it out loud and thinking about their cruel words really took a toll on her.

The boys ended up winning the game, but y/n stayed sitting down sulking while being in her own thoughts. It didn’t help anything at all when the same girls spoke again,

“Let’s go and leave the two fake love birds alone, don’t wanna see Jeff get suffocated by her.” 

Their laughs were loud and y/n tried her best to not let the tears make there way to her eyes and fall. 

“Hey baby, you ready to go?”

Looking up her eyes looked up to Jeff’s face, deciding not to say anything she stayed quiet and nodded. Jeff noticed her change in mood and frowned, picking up his bag and grabbing a hold of her hand, his frown deepened when y/n slipped her hand out of his and walked off the bleachers.

“Is everything okay?” 

He stopped in front of her but y/n sighed annoyed and gave an aggressive response.

“Everything is fine now can you stop asking me all these damn questions.”

Walking to his car she waits by the passenger door as Jeff walks up with a sad puppy dog look and unlocks the door. Opening the door, y/n freezes when she heard loud giggling and whispering, turning her head she sees the same girls and immediately turns back around and gets in the car.

Slamming the door close she buckles up and keeps her fist up to cover her mouth to not let any sound release. The tears came quick but she didn’t dare let them fall, she was angry, angry at those girls, angry at Jeff, but most of all angry at herself. 

Pulling up to his house, they both stay in their seat not saying anything for a moment. Finally, Jeff looks over at her and breaks the silence.

“Whats wrong? And don’t you dare lie to me y/n.”

Y/n shook her head as the tears slowly began to fall down her skin, Jeff immediately became concerned,

“Y/n, please tell me what’s wrong, it kills me to see you upset.”

It was as if all of her anger that was bubbled up exploded in that exact moment.


Getting out of the car y/n slams the door shut and begins to walk down the road to her house.

“Y/n, Y/n wait.”

Grabbing a hold of her arm, Jeff turns her around and takes in her runny face and sad eyes. He was truly disappointed in himself, how could he let her think like that he loved her.

“Y/n, I am absolutely one hundred percent not with you out of pity, I love you for you. How can you not see that I don’t care about what you look like and what size you are? My mother taught me better than that, screw those girls who said that you aren’t right for me or to thick for me. Just because you don’t have the perfect body that society thinks doesn’t mean you aren’t perfect to me. I fell in love with your confidence, your personality, your thick and amazing thighs, I fell in love with all of your perfections and imperfections.”

Pulling her into his body, he grips her waist and leans his forehead down on hers and stares deeply into her eyes.

“I fell in love with you for a reason y/n, you are perfection at its finest, and if you can’t see that then i will show you.” 

Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him in a deep long kiss, she had never felt this way about anybody, and she was glad that she had someone like Jeff. Pulling away she wraps him in a tight hug and hides her face in his neck. 

“I love you so much Jeff.”

“I love you to.”

A/n: I just ant you guys all to know that everybody is beautiful just the way they are, whether what size you are, embrace your beauty, you are not ugly, you are not fat, you are beautiful. All of you.

onemanbellarmy  asked:

congrats on 1k!!! (for 1) i'd love to see bellarke as grudging co-captains of like debate or a sports team or something, always bickering but they actually work really well together. enemies to friends to lovers, high school or college verse maybe? thanks ❤

thank you isabelle!! =D 

your bellarke fic:

“What the fuck was that, Griffin?”

Clarke drops her glove onto the bench and swipes up her water bottle, popping the lid off as she whirls around.

“What the fuck was what,” she retorts, glaring up from underneath the rim of her cap.

Bellamy tosses aside his mask before roughly unsnapping the buckles of his dusty chest protector, a grunt of pure frustration escaping from his mouth. “You weren’t on your base. I told you to be ready.”

“And I told you not to try it,” she shoots back, wiping the back of her hand across her mouth after a few rushed gulps of water. “Emori was going for the bunt, I saw her.”

“And Aden’s too much of a chickenshit to go for a steal, like I said,” Bellamy gripes, somehow managing to get his gear hung up on the hook without taking his narrowed eyes off Clarke.

“Clarke’s up,” Monty announces idly. Neither Bellamy nor Clarke pay him any attention.

“It was two out,” she points out, turning her back on Bellamy to set the bottle down. “Throwing out the bunt was a safer bet.”

“We had a plan,” he snaps, yanking off his shin guards.

“Plans change,” she counters, whipping her batting gloves off the bench.

At the other end of the dugout, Raven collapses onto the bench, pinching at the front of her shirt to fan it against her perspiring skin. “Who says sports isn’t fun,” she comments to no one.

“You better get yourself on base,” Bellamy growls at Clarke as she passes him by.

“You better get me home,” she retorts, her favourite blue-streaked bat already in hand as she strides out of the dugout and into the batter’s circle.

“Oh, good,” Miller says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “At least someone’s stepping up to bat.”

On the first pitch that comes her way, Clarke strikes a low grounder that zips right past the first baseman just along the foul line, forcing the right fielder just far enough out that she makes it to second base easily.

“Well,” Jasper remarks joyfully, elbows propped against the dugout fence, “she’s on base.”

Beside him, Harper snorts around a mouthful of Gatorade. “Not for much longer.”

Bellamy steps up to the plate and holds up a hand to the pitcher as he digs his feet into the dirt, sunlight glinting off his solid black bat.

Eighty-four feet across the field, Clarke rolls her eyes under her helmet. What a fucking drama queen.

Bellamy slugs the incoming fastball all the way out to deep left field with a satisfying thwack, the ball slicing a clean, level arc all the way past the scrambling outfielders.

Clarke makes it to the home plate with plenty of time to spare, slowly jogging off the diamond as she watches Bellamy charge right past second base, the outfielders still reaching frantically for the ball as it rolls out of their reach.

He spares a single glance behind him as he rounds third, and doesn’t look back as he races towards home, one foot landing on the plate with no more significance than any of the other steps he’s taken.

She rolls her eyes as he pulls up in front of her, his eyes flashing triumphantly even as he pants heavily.

“What a fucking drama queen,” she says, the others already flooding out of the dugout shouting excited cheers and thumping both of them on the back.

“Join the softball team, they said,” Bellamy says later, cracking two beer cans open. “It’ll be fun, they said.”

“Shut up,” Clarke tells him easily, grabbing a freshly opened beer off him as she passes him by.

“Your co-captain will be cooperative and pleasant to work with, they said.”

Clarke jabs a whiteboard marker in his direction. “First of all, no one’s ever said that. Ever. Second of all, I’m sorry if you don’t take much pleasure in winning. You know, like we just did? Today?”

“We could’ve prevented that run that came in,” Bellamy grumbles through swigs of beer. “From that centre fielder, remember?”

She rolls her eyes, turning to set her beer down on his desk. “Yeah, I can’t believe we won fourteen to two when it could’ve been fourteen to one. We should all probably just give up now. To avoid further embarrassment and all.”

“Winning isn’t about the score,” he argues heatedly, one hand on his hip. “It’s about—”

“—the game you play,” Clarke finishes, her eyes sparkling with amusement despite her bored tone. “Yes, thank you, captain. Are you done?”

He scowls, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. “All right, fine. What’s our plan for the next game?”

Clarke grins, pulling off the cap on the marker with a flourish. “Right,” she says, turning to the whiteboard tacked up on his wall, already covered in diagrams and player directions. “So here’s what I’m thinking…”

“Lemme guess,” Miller says the next day, when Bellamy shows up to their morning lecture, two minutes late and already yawning behind a hand. “You and Clarke stayed up half the night talking strategy. Again.”

“Shut up and send me today’s slides,” Bellamy grunts, folding himself into a seat beside Miller.

“This is insane,” Miller continues, shaking his head. “Will you two just fuckin’ kiss already? Playing in this goddamn tournament is stressful enough without having to watch you two run this eternal drill of love hotbox.”

Bellamy clears his throat. “So we were thinking about getting you to pitch a few more rise balls for the next game—”

“Slides are sent,” Miller says quickly, sitting up in his chair. “Yep, all done.”

They finally do kiss three weeks later.

It’s not exactly the most poetic kiss, or the prettiest. They’re both sweaty and grimy, each probably wearing about half the dirt off the diamond on their skin and clothes.

But when Bellamy leaps onto home plate to score their winning run and clinch them the championship, the entire team doesn’t even bother waiting for the umpire to call ‘safe’ before spilling out of the dugout.

It takes another few seconds for Clarke to fight her way through Jasper and Monty’s double hug, but when she finally does, she plants her hands firmly on each side of Bellamy’s face, and firmly pulls him down, her lips crashing into his.  

Bellamy blinks dazedly when she pulls back — but the cheers, smug ooh’s and aah’s, and the enthusiastic jostling of their surrounding teammates quickly jolts him back to alertness.

“First kiss in the wake of a hard-won victory,” he says, his hands finding the curve of her waist, his mouth curving with a smirk that ends up blooming into a full-blown grin. “Who’s the drama queen now?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, but the grin she’s wearing on her face is just as wide as his. 

“Shut up, captain,” she orders, already yanking him closer for another.

May 22, 2004

Oakland retires Reggie Jackson jersey number 9, honoring the slugger who played his first nine Hall of Fame seasons with the A’s, helping the team club capture three-consecutive World Series (1972-74). The former Athletics’ right fielder, who had his number 44 retired by the Yankees in 1993, becomes the eighth player to have his number retired by two or more teams.

Re: Hoech batting lefty. A lot of right handed fielders bat lefty because it’s strategically better against right-handed pitchers, which are most pitchers. It shows his versatility! 😜

I did not know that. Smart Hoech is smart.

Ohsaka Ryota Facts~

since I don’t really see much people posting about him, i decided to do this~

  • Born on 2 August 1986
  • From Tokushima preferture
  • Affiliated with EARLY WING
  • Blood type : O
  • Is 176cm tall
  • Hobby: Softball, Bowling, Gaming and going for a walk.
  • He is sort of the mother hen of the seiyuu in his generation, with Hanae calling him Ohsakakan.
  • He played baseball when he was in elementary school as a right fielder and changed to softball in middle school. In high school, he became a pitcher.
  • He can also hit quite well
  • look at him hit the homerun
  • He will speak very fast when he gets flustered. He’s from Tokushima, so when he gets flustered or loses a game, he will accidentally speak in ‘Ao Ben’ and according to Hanae Natsuki, it’s really scary to see him like that.
  • He is quite close with Shimazaki Nobunaga with both of them calling each other by their given name.
  • He is also very close with Hanae Natsuki.
  • He is the middle child with an older sister and a younger brother.
  • He has like anime ever since he was in middle school but he didn’t had the ambition to become a seiyuu until his high school entrance examination. After graduating from high school, he went to tokyo together with his friends who had the same ambition as him.
  • He admires Ishida Akira
  • His favourite role of Ishida Akira was Athurn Zala from Gundam Seed Destiny.
  • His favourite book is Dragonball
  • His favourite game is Tears of Eternia and Chrono Trigger.
  • His favourite artist is JAM Project and often sings their songs in karaoke.
  • He likes girls who are like older sisters.
  • His favourite colour is blue.
  • He has a baby face so when he goes to game center, he is often asked by people younger than him when if he’s over 16 already.
  • Out of all the genres in anime, his favourite is Mecha.
  • In the gundam series, his favorite is Mobile Suit Zeta Gundam.
When Sawamura becomes a third year, who do we lose from the starters?

Miyuki Kazuya - Catcher

Kuramochi Youichi - Shortstop

Maezono Kenta - 1st baseman

Shirasu Kenjirou - right fielder

Okay, incoming first years

Okumura Koushuu - definitely a catcher

Seto Takuma - probably shortstop?

Yuki Misashi - Tetsu was 1st base so probs 1st baseman?


And it will fucking hurt us bad when the current third years go out.

Zono, Shirasu






Showdown between dream teams!

Terajima’s team:

  • Starting pitcher: Narumiya Mei (Inajitsu)
  • Relief pitchers: Sawamura & Amahisa (Ichidaisan)
  • Closer: Furuya
  • Catcher: Miyuki
  • First baseman: Mishima (Yakushi)
  • Second baseman: Kominaro Haruichi
  • Third baseman: Todoroki Raichi (Yakushi)
  • Shortstop: Kuramochi
  • Left fielder: Akiba (Yakushi)
  • Center fielder: Miyagawa (Ichidaisan)
  • Right fielder: Shirasu
  • Coach: Todoroki Raizou (Yakushi)

Editor-in-chief’s team:

  • Starting pitcher: Yoh Shunshin (Akikawa)
  • Relief pitchers: Mukai (Teito) & Ogawa (Seiko)
  • Closer: Sanda (Yakushi)
  • Catcher: Harada (Inajitsu)
  • First baseman: Yuuki 
  • Second baseman: Kominato Ryosuke
  • Third baseman: Yoshizawa (Inajitsu)
  • Shortstop: Shirakawa (Inajitsu)
  • Left fielder: Toujou
  • Center fielder: Carlos
  • Right fielder: Isashiki
  • Coach: Kunitomo (Inajitsu)
Baseball's silliest unwritten rule is back under fire after Jose Bautista was hit by a pitch in the ugly Blue Jays-Braves series

(Vaughn Ridley/Getty)

The fiery series between the Atlanta Braves and Toronto Blue Jays has put bat flips under the spotlight again.

On Wednesday, Blue Jays right fielder Jose Bautista caused a firestorm by hitting a solo home run in the eighth inning — with the Blue Jays trailing 8-3 — staring down Atlanta’s Eric O'Flaherty, then flipping his bat.

Bautista, of course, owns one of the most famous bat flips in MLB history.

The optics of Wednesday’s bat flip, however, were not great, given the Jays’ deficit. Braves first baseman Jace Peterson had words with Bautista as he rounded the bases, as did catcher Kurt Suzuki when Bautista reached home. Benches cleared, but no punches were thrown.

On Thursday, as expected, the Braves got their revenge, beaming Bautista in the leg, one pitch after throwing mightily close to his feet.

How badly did the Braves want revenge? That was the fastest pitch Julio Teheran has thrown in two years.

Julio Teherán’s pitch to hit Bautista was 95.6 MPH. It was his fastest since 2015.

— ESPN Stats & Info (@ESPNStatsInfo)

May 18, 2017

Both dugouts were issued warnings, and the game continued without much more drama as the Jays won 9-0. It was just another ugly incident in a series that featured a bench-clearing after Bautista’s homer, a pitch that fractured the wrist of Braves slugger Freddie Freeman, and another bench-clearing that resulted in the Jays suspending center fielder Kevin Pillar for using a homophobic slur.

On Wednesday, O'Flaherty blasted Bautista, saying the bat flip was a “look at me” move:

“That’s something that’s making the game tough to watch lately. It’s just turned into ‘look at me’ stuff. It’s not even about winning anymore. Guy wants to hit a home run in a five-run game, pimp it, throw the bat around. It’s frustrating as a pitcher. … It’s just tired. We’ve seen it from him enough.”

Bautista, however, defended himself, saying: “It’s part of the game. It’s emotion. Sometimes it’s fitting. Sometimes it’s not. Just like people celebrate after defensive plays and big strikeouts, I think it’s part of the game. … Sometimes our competitive juices come out in the wrong moment.”

Bautista added that he wasn’t trying to “show anybody up.”

The baseball world seems to agree that celebrations are OK but that Bautista’s recent bat flip came at the wrong moment.

ESPN’s Dave Schoenfield mocked Bautista’s timing:

“I’m not against Bautista having fun playing baseball. But this wasn’t him enjoying the moment; this was him being a jerk simply for the sake of being a jerk. It’s an NBA player dunking and hanging on the rim when down by 35 points. It’s celebrating a touchdown when you’re losing by 28. It’s ego over team.”

Mark Teixeira, an MLB analyst for ESPN and former Yankees first baseman, told YES Network that Bautista shouldn’t have been celebrating while the Jays were down — but, more interestingly, he says players just don’t like Bautista:

“I don’t mind in a big situation, game-winning home run, game-tying home run late in the game, you wanna show some emotion. They’re down 8-3 in the late innings. There’s no reason for that one. The fact of the matter is that no one really likes Jose Bautista, let’s be honest. If any other player would have done that, we wouldn’t be talking about it. … I can see why a lot of pitchers especially and catchers don’t like the way that he acts.”

However, Bautista is not the only one affected by baseball’s unwritten rules. Earlier in May, the Red Sox and Orioles had a series of ugly incidents stemming from the Orioles’ Manny Machado sliding into Dustin Pedroia at second base. Machado was thrown at once, then took his time rounding the bases after a home run. The next game, Chris Sale beamed him with a pitch, leading Machado to go off on profane a postgame rant about it.

While opponents understandably get angry when players celebrate or taunt after a big moment — or, in Bautista’s case, a rather mundane moment — but there’s danger in intentionally hitting a player. It’s not a stretch to imagine one of these revenge pitches going too far and seriously injuring someone if MLB doesn’t step in.

NOW WATCH: John Cena reveals how he stays in incredible fighting shape

More From Business Insider

Mets Outfielder Curtis Granderson on His Teammate Fan Account @wefollowlucasduda

For more New York Mets surveillance of Lucas Duda, follow @wefollowlucasduda on Instagram.

Along the way to their first World Series appearance since 2000, the New York Mets kept their clubhouse loose, even though few experts believed they’d even make the playoffs. Case in point: @wefollowlucasduda, an Instagram account run by right fielder Curtis Granderson (@cgrand3), that, as its name suggests, lovingly surveils first baseman Lucas Duda. Though he’s a 6’4", 255-pound slugger, Lucas is fairly shy with fans and media, so Curtis decided something must be done. “Duda’s a great guy and a great athlete, so we felt like we needed to share Duda with the fans. He’s really funny, even when he doesn’t intend to be. He enjoys sushi, music and likes to have fun, but is a serious guy when it comes to baseball,” says Curtis. Other teammates have joined in on the fun, filming him in the batting cage or having a pregame snack, even though Lucas acts frustrated by the attention. “I’m not sure which annoyed him most, but he’s taken my phone on many occasions and deleted a bunch of really good videos!” Curtis says. In the last game against the Cubs, Lucas hit a home run and had five RBIs to help the team win, but is he starting to enjoy the Instagram attention? “I think it’s 50-50,” says Curtis. “It’s growing on him.”

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

For sashaatthebarricade. You know why.

In which for inexplicable reasons, Les Amis are a baseball team playing at Barricade Field against the National Guard team. That’s it, that’s the story.

E/R, modern AU. A small knowledge of baseball is probably required to understand everything happening, but not much.

“Good evening and welcome to Barricade Field for the second annual charity baseball league game between the National Guardsmen and your very own Les Amis de l’ABC!” The stadium erupted into cheers and the announcer waited for them to die down before continuing, “I’m Montparnasse and I will be announcing for this second-ever match-up between two formidable teams. The home team is, of course, the social justice group Les Amis, led by captain and pitcher Enjolras.” The crowd cheered even louder, and over in the bullpen, the man with the baseball cap jammed low over his blond curls gave a distracted wave, which only caused the volume from the crowd to increase.

“Of course, in addition to his stunning good looks and questionable sexuality – keep hoping, ladies, he’s not confirmed anything publicly, despite the many rumors of what he gets up to with his team, especially his catcher, Grantaire, who might catch in more than one way, if you get my meaning – Enjolras made history last year when he withdrew Les Amis from this self-same game after their right fielder, Jean Prouvaire, was injured. At the time, Enjolras was quoted as saying that while he was set on winning the game, he was less so set on victory than on the health of Jean Prouvaire.”

The crowd cheered again, assumedly as much for what they saw as Enjolras’s gallant actions as anything, and the National Guard team hissed and booed from their dugout. “Do you hear that, Apollo?” Grantaire called as he caught one of Enjolras’s warm-up pitches. “That’s the sound of your people right there.” Enjolras scowled and threw the next pitch harder than was probably necessary, causing Grantaire to wince.

“But none of that matters tonight, as we are gathered for the rematch of the year.” Montparnasse paused, letting the crowd cool down before saying, “And now, the starting line-up for your Les Amis!” Now the crowd went absolutely wild, and Montparnasse didn’t even bother waiting for them to calm down as he announced the players. “Batting first, the first baseman, Combeferre! Batting second, right-fielder Jehan Prouvaire. Third to bat, designated hitter Le Cabuc!”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Who is Roberto?🙄

Roberto is a termite who likes to build with wood, not eat it. And so he sets off for the big city to pursue his dream of becoming an architect. Despite hard times and rejection from big shot architects like Hank Floyd Mite and Fleas Van Der Rohe, Roberto eventually finds a way to “build his dream.”

Roberto Enrique Clemente Walker was a Puerto Rican professional baseball player. Clemente spent 18 Major League Baseball (MLB) seasons playing in the National League (NL) as a right fielder for the Pittsburgh Pirates. He was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame in 1973, becoming the first Latin American and Caribbean player to be enshrined. His untimely death established the precedent that, as an alternative to the five-year retirement period, a player who has been deceased for at least six months is eligible for entry into the Hall of Fame.

Originally posted by welcometoyouredoom

Roberto is a recurring character in Futurama. He was a robot who enjoyed stabbing people and objects, as well as robbing banks. He is regarded as being mentally unstable and has been seen in the Hal Institute for Criminally Insane Robots multiple times, threatening both patients and doctors with knives, and escaping at least once.


December 8th, 1941, Japanese controlled northern Manchuria. 2nd Lt. Baldwin S. Lügner of the US Army Corps of Engineers was the de facto commander a survey team who had spent the last 6 months working on improved mapping of Manchuria. 7 civilians and 5 additional soldiers were under his command, which he had been thrust into only a week earlier when their Captain had been injured in a climbing accident and evacuated. In the early hours of Dec. 8th (still Dec. 7th in the US), his radio man reported to him, ashen faced, that he had received an urgent message announcing a state of war between the US and Japan. 

Operating in enemy territory, and their presence well known to Japanese authorities, Lt. Lügner knew that it would be a brief matter of time before they would face arrest - or worse. The Soviet border was 50 miles away, but through rough terrain, the chance of escape was next to nil. Defense positions were prepared, and all that could be done was wait. It was early the next morning that a Japanese company began their approach. Hopelessly outnumbered and wiith nothing to lose, Lt. Lügner, and one of the civilians who was quite fluent in Japanese sent up a flag of truce and walked out to talk, where they were met by the Japanese commander Major Honmonode Wanai.  

Maj. Wanai was friendly, and happy to offer terms of surrender, but a man of honor, Lügner was unwilling to simply roll over, as he insisted it was palpably unfair that his men should be forced to surrender when they had been in the region on a peaceful mission agreed to by the Japanese government. In a strange stroke of luck however, the American translator, who had spent some years in Japan, recognized Wanai as the former star right fielder for the Osaka Baseball Club in the JBL, and previously of the famed Waseda High School program. A college star himself, Lügner was quickly intrigued, and decided to make a gamble. Issuing a challenge to Wanai, he insisted that his men could beat a picked team from the Japanese company, and offered to surrender with to terms the Major asked for if they lost the game, while Lügner being allowed to dictate his own terms of surrender if the American’s triumphed. An eager sportsman, even if his career had been interrupted for the war, Wanai couldn’t let a challenge to Japanese baseball supremacy go unaccepted, and duly agreed. 

Runners were sent back to their base to retrieve gear, while the rest prepared a field of play. As the defenders, the Americans were allowed “Home team” status, and Lügner threw the first pitch, and inside fastball for a strike (A Swedish geologist, the lone none-American civilian in Lügner’s group and a deemed a neutral observer, served as umpire, although his understanding of the game was marginal at best). Both teams, mostly middling amateurs at best, played their hearts out, and it remained a close, low scoring game, going into the 9th inning tied 3-3. With two outs, the Japanese pulled ahead on a daring grab by Wanai of home plate on a wild pitch, but Lügner got himself under control, and put the next batter down on three straight strikes. A sac bunt, a stolen base, and a solid line drive tied the game up at the bottom of the 9th, and it moved on to extra innings.

By the 15th inning, both sides were exhausted. Although outnumbering the Americans, the Japanese had restricted themselves to three substitutions in deference to the American’s small numbers, and both sides had long since made them. Two outs, a man on first, with a 2-2 count, Lügner, fighting the fatigue of pitching the entire game, nevertheless managed to catch a low curve, sending it over the head of the left fielder. With no outfield fence, there was no “out-of-the-park” hits, and as he rounded second, Lügner knew the game was tied, but also that he had a chance to win it all. The outfielder chasing after the rolling ball grabbed it and hit the cutoff man as Lügner made his mad dash for home. With inches to spare, he dove at the plate, clearly beating the throw and giving the Americans a walk-off win with his “inside-the-park” home run.

Not one to waste his opportunity, rather than simply write agreeable terms for surrender, Lügner requested he and his men be allowed to not only keep their arms, but given an honor guard to escort them to the Soviet border. A gracious loser, Wanai agreed, even providing transportation for the small group. They were delivered into Soviet custody the next afternoon, and eventually repatriated to the United States a month later. 

Maj. Wanai would face a court martial for his actions, but was cleared of the charges as it was agreed that his conduct was honorable, if incorrect. Nevertheless it ended what had been a promising career, and he would be killed in action a year later after being reassigned to Guadalcanal in punishment. 

Lügner however was awarded the Silver Star for his leadership, and after a tour of the US raising war bonds, was assigned to play for the Army’s baseball team, where he led them to an inter-service championship over the Navy in 1943. Uncomfortable playing ball while others were shedding blood however, now Capt. Lügner requested a combat assignment, arriving in Europe in time to earn a second Silver Star as a combat engineer with Patton’s 3rd Army during the Battle of the Bulge. Demobilized after the war, he was overed a minor league contract by the Washington Senators, but despite several solid years AA ball, was never able to make the major league squad, with any final chance eliminated when he was mobilized for service in Korea. Once again a civilian, he would lead a successful career as a water engineer before passing away in 1983.