By Brian Whitehead

Daily Titan Sports Columnist

A couple months ago, I wrote an article detailing the undeserved success of my all-male softball team.

In it I wrote for great lengths on the baffling incompetence of the other three teams in our “novice” league.

If you remember, I bashed these teams for routinely dropping fly balls, bobbling grounders, striking-out and doing everything else that directly contributed to our success.

Our motto for the season was: “You don’t deserve it.”

As in, “Thomas, you swung at a ball three feet over your head, pitifully popped it up, but fortunately hit it to the right fielder who’s wearing jean shorts, a ‘What the Hell Am I Doing Out Here?’ expression and a glove that amazingly squeezed together two seconds before the ball got there.

Yes, you’re standing on second, but you sure as hell don’t deserve it.”

In an ironic turn of events, the week my article came out we lost our first game of the season.

A nail-biter. A heart-breaker. 32-5. Yeah, 32-5.

I can’t remember the exact number of errors we committed that night, but I’m pretty sure it was in the upper 100s. Honestly, at some point you just stop counting.

I look back at that shellacking and feel like Mark Wahlberg when he reflects on his Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch days.

Yeah, it was that bad.

Truth be told, that Sunday night assault cracked my list of “Most Embarrassing Sports-Related Losses,” ranking right above the 22-0 beat-down Etiwanda put on my high school baseball team, but just below the 77-0 thrashing Beaumont laid on my football team.

Following the humbling loss, we recovered rather nicely and finished our inaugural season 9-1, scoring 20 runs a game while winning by an average of 12.

Not bad for a group of basketball players, “Madden” experts, fantasy football gurus, golf wannabes, and a 51-year-old and a 49-year-old (my apologies, Mr. Hossler/Mr. Utter).

I said it once and I’ll say it again, don’t be fooled. “We finished the season nicely” isn’t a compliment by any stretch of the imagination.

Sure, we improved in some areas, but as the old adage goes, you give a blind squirrel enough chances and he’ll find a nut eventually. Or something like that.

We still committed mind-boggling errors, still grounded out to the pitcher and still swung at balls four feet over our heads.

During the tail-end of the season, our outfield became as reliable as Rafael Palmeiro’s grand jury testimony, and our shortstop even managed to heave not one, but two throws over the 40-foot backstop.

I’ll admit I’m being a little harsh.

We squeezed out a couple close games (including an intense late-season 14-13 win that was as exciting as any Pirates/Nationals game), got some big hits from some unexpected players, enjoyed insulting each other whenever we royally screwed up (which was often) and even managed to avoid getting into a fight with another team. OK, three out of four ain’t bad.

Our dedication, hard work, “Never Say Die” attitude and $30 earned us a “League Champions” T-shirt and a parade scheduled for Wednesday in Corona. I wish I was kidding.

The day my article came out, my buddy Mark brought it to my attention that I never mentioned specifically whether I was any good.

I think his exact words were, “Everyone probably thinks you suck too.” What are friends with a .405 batting average in slow-pitch softball for? (Besides the “Bro Hug, Double Back Tap” combo, I mean.)

My response was something like, “The people who read the Daily Titan should know I wouldn’t have written the article if I wasn’t any good.”

I guess not.

Well, just so you know, I’m pretty good. Not to brag or anything. Just telling it like it is. I took the humble road and look where it got me, having to defend my ability to play slow-pitch softball. I thought of simply putting the stat sheet into this article to prove my point, but it didn’t fit.

So, just trust me when I say I was the best player in the league. Then again, that’s not saying much.