The year was 1699, and the place was a little town in Northern Rhode Island in the corner of the month of March. The town of Kirkland sat in an ocean of chaos as their rivals from the southern jungles, Autumn Blaze, was on their way to the town to do nothing but simply destroy. Panic, hysteria and terror ran through the townspeople day and night, waiting for the ruthless tribe to arrive.

“Seventy-two hours until they’re here!” Todrick Reynolds, the town spokesman screamed at the nervous crowd at his wide-spaced podium. “In three days their presence will be rolling through these roads… wanting our blood and our loot!”

. “What about the children!?” yelled Mrs. Jensen.

“And the women! What about them?” screamed Mr. Donald, the city tax collector and city director.

Mr. Reynolds took his hat off and leaned on the podium closer to the town. He rubbed his eyes harshly and began clearing his throat as if there was a frog stuck in it. The crowd began yelling frantically as the small man who stood alone and overwhelmed. He held up his hand for a couple of seconds, and the mob simmered down.

“Autumn Blaze are animals. They’re demons from hell. They’re monsters from unknown jungles of the south. We’re all coming down together. There’s nothing we can do. I can’t help but say folks… that I think Kirkland is going down in the history books,” Mr. Reynolds told the crowd softly. “Just go back home and relax in the moment while you can still feel like warriors. God bless the town of Kirkland, and God bless Autumn Blaze.”

“Why don’t we gather at the church?!” yelled John Parksman, cutting through the silence. “We can gather and talk to God directly. I’m not going down without a fight. I mean, our families have lived here for years and years… and we’re gonna give all their winnings and dignity away to some undefeated, monsters from down south?!”

“John, we’ve tried prayer!” Mr. Reynolds said fiercely.

After seconds of silence, Miss Jensen was the first to scurry away. Everyone then followed slowly with their heads hanging towards their feet and their backs bent out of shape. Todrick himself gave a look around at the crowd, put on his top hat, grabbed his nearby cane and followed behind.

The townspeople abandoned the streets for days. Not even Frank Murdle’s ghost, who usually stops in for a bite to eat at “Richard’s Cheesesteaks” every afternoon around 3:00 made an appearance… anywhere. It was only a matter of hours until the tribe would arrive bringing fury.  

Amazingly, however, Kirkland came out on top! Peter Max’s two-run shot to center field put them in the lead in the bottom of the fifth, 6-5. Autumn Blaze’s number one pitcher, Zoobookoo Uteekuuwandahh, shut out the next four innings and hit a whopping shot over the right field’s church by about fifty-feet, leaving the last and final inning with a 6-6 tie. Mr. Reynolds was up to bat. He took the last swing at his 3-2 count with two outs, and bases loaded, and put that ball in Miss Jensen’s hotdog way out in left center field to win the game. The town went crazy. They were  now officially undefeated champs twenty-nine years in a row, beating out the current record. The town celebrated at the church eating cheesesteaks all night, and hotdogs all morning. Autumn Blaze would go home with their tail between their legs, remembering the faces of the men who crushed their spirits, and crushed their hope to ever play baseball on the continent of North America again.