That's Baseball

Going into the bottom of the fifth, a steady rain falling, coach gathered us in front of the dugout. “Alright boys,” he said, “We’ve got a five-run lead and rain on the horizon. Three outs, it’s official and we can hit the titty-bar winners.”
    Riled by the promise of drier, nakeder conditions with more booze, the boys took the field, charging across the soggy diamond, raindrops exploding on the bills of their caps. On the first pitch, the Kangaroos’ first baseman popped to third. One out.
    After going up in the count, the next guy hit a long drive that seemed to die abruptly at the warning track, where it fell into the glove of our center fielder. Two outs.
    At the cusp of victory, the team exploded in encouragement, slapping their gloves and yelling in at the wide-eyed freshman pitcher. He wiped his hand on the side of his pants, took a deep breath and stepped on the rubber. A fastball on the inside half, taken for a strike. A slider to the outside, swung at and missed. At 0-2, the encouragement grew from fervid to ferocious, the infielders and outfielders screaming as if to will the 18-year-old hurler to victory.
    The kid took the sign, nodding in agreement. Just as he came set, though, a pack of prehistoric lizard-men leaped the wall in left field. There was a gasp from the crowd as the man-lizards began attacking the players on both teams indiscriminately, tearing flesh from bone and running around in that funny way they do. One of them picked up our third baseman, threw him in the air and caught him again, which was kind of neat. 
    After just a few minutes of carnage, they were gone, reptilian shrieks fading in the distance--but there still weren’t enough players left to finish the game. The surviving umpire broke the news to coach, that the game would have to be made up at a later date, on grounds of a raptor attack. "One minute, you're a strike away from the win--the next your boys are being torn apart by a pack of vicious lizard-men," coach said, tucking a pinch of Copenhagen in his lip. "Welp, that's baseball."