Shamrocks win Cinco de Mayo tourney

Ah yes, Cinco de Mayo in Nogales, Ariz. An annual sporting event attracting 24 teams from Tucson to Green Valley to Sun City, along with great ballplayers from the Mexican Leagues.

Always a darn good time — best tournament of the year. Sponsored by Frank Coronado and his Tucson Cowboys, in their customary class and fine sense of taste. Taste doesn’t stop there: exotic Mex food mixed concocted by the cheerful Cowgirls.

Oh, and chilled cerveza. How can you lose, even if you don’t win?

On to the games. Manager Joe Wilson warned that a loss would result in zero adult beverages — a threat good enough to lash his horses into a frantic frenzy of athleticism not seen since the Olympics.

The Shammies, in the middle divsion, locked up on May 1 with the Tucson Blasters. But I didn’t hear any explosion, and down they spun, 15-0.

Imagine! Jim Mollsen twirled a four-hit shutout, unheard of in slow-pitch softball. Defense was shining and heavy-metal thunder, as the song says, rang across the diamond.

Come Saturday afternoon. The Shams took on the tough POW team, banging out an 11-3 victory behind the ace pitching of Rick Keagy, whose expertise on the mound is challenged only by his money management as an entire planet panics.

If he were captain of the Titanic, he could’ve persuaded the passengers to relax, that they were just stopping to take on ice.

The evening game, against Wolfgang, a squad of all-stars from Tucson, was tighter, but the guys in green scratched their way to a 15-8 victory. Three wins, no losses, giving up a past-belief 11 runs.

Miller time, anyone?

Sunday came out bright and so did the Shams. At 10:20 a.m., they looked across the infield and into a dugout full of Cowboys.

Why were they glaring as they laced up their spikes? Could it be because they’d played out this drama probably 100 times?

The all-time record stood at something like 55-45, and you pick the leader. But just because they were the tourney hosts played no part in the fierce ready-to-rumble slug-out about to begin, right after our glorious National Anthem.

Stars in the game were numerous; my personal picks were Fred Searle, Steve “Sergeant” Garcia, Dave Ahner, Tommy “Pig Pen” Vincent and Claude “Pepe Le Pew” LaBarre. Mollsen was superb, and the Cowboys, who swear they hate him, had a right to cry.

But the ‘Rocks, ahead 15-5 near the end, made it a thriller, finally pulling away with the win, 15-10.

The ‘Boys say they hate us, but I wonder. A better opponent or classier host you will not find.

Championship game

Okay, fans, hang on, here comes the championship tilt.

The Sun City Sidewinders filed off their team RV. And kept on filin. So big, I thought they were the New England Patriots, all snazzed out in red, white and blue. Scary.

Back and forth the old-time enemies went at it in the Nogales Nightmare. A heart-hurrying, over-the-shoulder catch by second baseman Steve Garcia had the fans bumpin’ and jumpin’ — a play you see on TV.

Fred made catch after catch in the outfield, one at his shoetops and doubling up the runner at first base for the two-out gem. In the sun field, Dave Ahner snagged an inning-ending line drive. How did he see it?

The Greenies burst from the dugout in the bottom of seven. The snakes had one last shot.

But with the scoreboard reading 14-5, a huge boulder lay in their path. We know these guys, they know us. It ain’t over till the fat lady swings. And man, were those dudes swingin’.

Rick threw strikes till his aorta was ready to blow a rod. But white and round missiles kept landing on the outfield grass, the score got ever tighter. Bases juiced, the Shams held a one-run lead and the fans in the stands held their breath.

One out. Now the pitch: hot shot to shortstop Joe Wilson, over to Garcia at second; made the turn and threw to first base. Double play!

I thought we were in Fenway Park: the joint was smokin’ and they weren’t jokin’.

Of course, the Sidewinders, always the gentlemen and gracious losers — whenever that is — lined up to slap hands in the old and genuine display of sportsmanship: “Great game, good job.”

The Shamrocks’ lucky-mascot dog, The Great Gordito, known by all, twirled around the infield like a wild wildebeast. I swear he was smiling.

The word spread, like NOW: Margaritaville!

Weary warriors peeled off their battle gear and trudged to the Tequila Tent for the glad celebration. Some, it is reported, stayed on long after the sun shone somewhere out on the Pacific. Just a false, vicious and/or unsubstantiated rumor, I say.

No most valuable player was named, but in these old eyes, it seemed glaringly apparent: Claude “Batman” LaBarre shares it with Steve “Gloveman” Garcia.

So again this year your valiant victors loaded the stagecoach with a chest of gold and rode it all the way to Green Valley.

(This article is dedicated to our teammate Bob Kelly, and lovely wife Shirley, who had to watch it on ESPN in Peoria, Ill. Hey, coulda been worse: coulda been me).

Keep the faith, and see ya next year!

John Ledford reports on the “boys of summer” for the Green Valley News.