By Glenn Dromgoole

I thought I was a better than average hitter in the City Church Slow Pitch Softball League, playing for the Methodists that summer.

I was the catcher and leadoff hitter, but I wasn’t a Methodist (I was a Baptist), but then neither were our pitcher (Lutheran), first baseman (Church of Christ), shortstop (Catholic), left fielder (Agnostic) or centerfielder (Presbyterian). The Methodists didn’t have enough players to field a team, so they drafted ecumenically.

In our first game, we beat the First Baptists (they actually all went there) 19-6, and the next week we beat the Pentecostals (hallelujah!) 17-5. We celebrated those wins with a few Bud Lights the Catholics had in coolers in their pickups in the parking lot. (Well, the Church of Christ first baseman had a Dr Pepper.)

Now we had to play the Second Baptists, who also were undefeated. Their preacher, Rev. Milligan, was their pitcher, and he had a rather distinctive pitch – the moonball. 

Most slow pitch pitchers toss the ball in a twelve-to-fourteen-foot arc, but the Rev. Milligan’s moonball went up more than twenty feet before it dropped right across the strike zone. Most of our games were played at night. Thus, the moonball. After batting against him, players were heard uttering words not found in the Psalms, Gospels, or Pauline Epistles.

Naturally, Rev. Milligan became known as Moonball Milligan. (Reverend Damn Moonball Milligan, we so-called Methodists called him.)

In real baseball, the moonball wouldn’t be all that effective because if a runner managed to get to first base, he would be able to steal second and third and maybe even home. 

But, in slow pitch softball, stealing bases isn’t allowed. And especially not in the City Church Slow Pitch Softball League. Stealing is sinful, you know. Methodists, Catholics, Pentecostals, First Baptists, Second Baptists all agree. Even Presbyterians and Agnostics. Thou shalt not steal.

We were the home team, so the Second Baptists would bat first. Rev. Milligan called them together, and they knelt for a short prayer. Their first batter doubled down the left field line. Their second batter popped up to the second baseman. The third batter hit a long, long ball to right field – just foul! – then grounded out to the first baseman, the base runner advancing to third. Rev. Milligan – the cleanup hitter in the lineup – did not seem to be reciting the Lord’s Prayer after he flied out to centerfield.

Our turn. I’m up first. Here comes the moonball. After what seems like five minutes, the pitch drops in right over the plate. Strike one. I’m ready for the next one which floats down as I swing with all my might – and miss. Strike two. The third one would have been a ball – too high – but I swung anyway and actually hit it. Straight up. Caught by the shortstop.

It went on like that for four innings. The Second Baptists managed to score two runs, but the Methodists – we had averaged 18 runs a game the first two games – we were scoreless.

But in the fifth inning the Rev. Milligan started having trouble controlling his moonball, and we had two batters on, and I was up for the third time, with two outs. This time I kept the bat on my shoulder as he arched it twenty feet, maybe more. Right on the plate. Strike one. Same thing, strike two. The next pitch was almost over the umpire’s head. Then two pitches that didn’t even make it the full distance to home plate. Then a pitch way outside. Bases loaded.

Our third baseman, who was actually a Methodist (the youth minister), had not been intimidated by Rev. Milligan’s moonball. He already had one of our two hits. This time he waited for just the right pitch and knocked it between the right and center fielders for a triple, and we were ahead 3-2. Our Catholic shortstop crossed himself and then singled to left for another run, 4-2.

Rev. Milligan made it 4-3 with a home run in the sixth, but then a strange thing happened. The stadium lights went out. It was almost pitch black. It took about twenty minutes before they could get the lights on again.

Moonball Milligan was never the same after that. He walked three batters on twelve straight pitches and then called for another player to come pitch. He didn’t have a moonball, and they didn’t have a chance. We scored six more runs and won the game 10-3.

The next time we played the Second Baptists, Rev. Milligan was the camp pastor at the Baptist youth camp and couldn’t play, so I didn’t have to face the moonball again.

` And I pray I never will.

Glenn Dromgoole actually did play catcher for the Methodists one summer, even though his dad was the Baptist preacher. Other than that, this story is pretty much made up.

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