Gimme The Pill, Skip

Reading this morning’s account of Bettendorf’s loss in the state semi-finals, I recall one of my favorite pictures from Colin’s tour of Bulldog baseball duty.  Colin (right) and Jacob Weir (left) coming in from the bullpen in the top of an inning, ready to put out the fire starting to smolder on the mound.   Colin's pants are dirty, so he must have been pulled off first base.  The picture captures the focused intensity of stopper / closers, watching each pitch as they walk (never, ever, run) to the dugout, with Manager Bill Thomas about to choose between the slick deception of Jacob or the heat-seeking assault of Colin.    

It was a good choice to have, and I was blessed to have it for a year at Davenport East Pony.  Jacob was my ace / shortstop / centerfielder triples machine, and Colin was my closer / stopper / go rest your arm at first base / I'll call you when I need you offensive wrecking crew.  Together, they were 2 for 2 on called straight steals of home, which tells you most of what you need to know about their ballplayer moxie.  Jacob is a fine young man.  Smart and modest, with an exceptional work ethic and a capacity far beyond his years to shoulder responsibility without blinking an eye.  Between him and Colin, I can’t recall that we ever lost while one or the other was on the hill.  I can recall Jacob pitching the best baseball game I have ever personally witnessed, at any level of baseball.  A two hit complete game shut out of arch rival Pepsi.  The best pitched game I’ve ever personally witnessed, at any level of baseball.

Thanks, Jacob.