Iroquois Plate Game: Thrilling Baseball Matches and Exciting Plays

Iroquois Baseball Plates 35 Hits over Three Games

 Iroquois pitcher Andy Holcolmb (left) focuses on an infield pop up while Owen Greene (right) comes in from first base for backup.

<p dir=”ltr”>Some of the most exciting Iroquois varsity baseball was played during the last week of April. The games went from low scoring affairs to football scores with the Chiefs in every contest. Overall, Iroquois beat Sweet Home and lost a pair of one-run games to Williamsville South and Niagara Wheatfield to finish the week at 1-2. With the Billies game a conference contest, the Chiefs dropped to 3-2 in league play and dropped to 5-5 overall.

<p dir=”ltr”><span>The most exciting game was against Sweet Home on April 28. The teams combined for 26 hits and 25 runs in a 14-11 Iroquois home win. After trailing 3-0, the Chiefs got five runs in the bottom of the first to take the lead. Iroquois would add another run in the second inning for a 6-3 lead. Both teams would score four in the fourth for a 10-7 Chiefs lead, but the Panthers got another four in the sixth to take its second lead at 11-10. Iroquois got those four back in their last ups via a pair of doubles for the 14-11 final. </span>

Dave Shriver bats in two runs with this double in the sixth inning for the game’s final runs. 

<p dir=”ltr”><span>Ben Ellmann’s sixth inning double scored Drew Partsch for the game-winning run. Connor Day had also scored on the play from first, but because Ellmann’s drive went under the fence it became a ground rule double and Day was sent back to third. Dave Shriver brought Day and Ellmann in with a double of his own for the final runs of the game. Calvin Gawlik had a double play in the seventh to end the Panther rally.</span>

<p dir=”ltr”><span>Day and Owen Creighton added bases loaded doubles, with the pair having four and three RBI, respectively. Owen Greene led the team in hits with three. Andy Holcolmb, Ellmann and Creighton all had a pair of hits with single hits from Partsch, Day, Gawlik, Shriver and Joe Current. Holcolmb recorded the win from the mound.</span>

<p dir=”ltr”><span>The Chiefs lost to Niagara Wheatfield 8-7, April 29 after a bad start saw Iroquois trail 6-0 after the first inning. A combination of seven runs in the second and third innings gave the Chiefs a 7-6 lead with both the tying and go-ahead runs coming off Niagara Wheatfield errors. The Falcons tied the game in the sixth and got a walk-off run in the seventh for the win.</span>

Dave Shriver beats the throw at second base in the fifth inning.

<p dir=”ltr”><span>Overall, the Chiefs were out-hit 16-10 against Niagara Wheatfield with Iroquois getting a pair of hits from Creighton, Day, Current and Greene. The best performance by an Iroquois player came from Partsch, who after replacing the starting pitcher threw almost five scoreless innings from the bump.</span>

<p dir=”ltr”><span>In the conference matchup against Williamsville South, Iroquois lost 2-1 but out-hit the Billies 9-6. Greene went the distance from the mound and deserved a better outcome, but the Chiefs left too many baserunners stranded.</span>

<p dir=”ltr”><span>Leading the way offensively were Shriver, Gawlik and Holcolmb with two hits each. Greene, Day and Partsch also had hits in a game Iroquois never had the lead in. After falling behind 1-0 in the second, the Chiefs tied it in the fourth and gave up the winning run the next inning.</span>

Shortstop Calvin Gawlik, center, ends the game against Sweet Home with this double play throw to first for a 14-11 Iroquois win April 28 as second baseman Drew Partsch, left, watches the play.

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“Iroquois” by Alexei Kolesnikov – Year of Literature

Text: Andrey Myagkov

The finalists of the next season of the “Lyceum” award were announced today – the collection of short stories “Iroquois” by Belgorod resident Alexei Kolesnikov was also on the shortlist. The St. Petersburg publishing house “Chtivo” released this book at the end of last year – and it seems to have really succeeded, maybe even with a margin. Two hundred pages fit into a variety of – both stylistically and thematically – texts: an ironic sketch about Lenin who came to life, but turned out to be unnecessary; the tender (albeit not without irony) love story of a married judge and defendant whom she eventually sentences for “extremist” songs; a serious, even a little pathetic story about how a guy “ransomed” a completely unfamiliar soldier who was captured at the beginning of the Second Chechen War. Or here is the capital “Iroquois” – a text about the unhappy love of yesterday’s schoolboy in the scenery of a construction site, where khaki helicopters are already chirping over the Belgorod Region – because, as Kolesnikov writes, “between Russians and Ukrainians” already “hate championship has started”. Workers from the construction site, by the way, will not be paid – neither Russians nor Ukrainians.

The collection also contains the traditional, at first glance, nostalgic story “Ithaca”: the hero returns to his native place, from which he left, and even the heart is expected to ache – just not quite from what you thought. A little sentimental, as if sometimes talking a little more than it should, but at the same time a surprisingly transparent, sincere text. Sensitive, humane, honest – those same three “H”, the lack of which is now so acutely felt.

Ithaca

• For good or bad luck
• The truth is simple:
• Never return
• to the old places.
• Even if the ashes
• Looks good,
• Can’t find what we’re looking for,
• Neither you nor me.
• G. Shpalikov

My Ithaca, where a drunken surgeon mutilated the weakened body of the fatherland with a seam. The seam is inflamed, bakes. The whole body from pain does not know rest. Where the Russian forest becomes Ukrainian, it is there that an unlubricated robot devours itself with a toothless mouth: the former workers’ settlement is my Ithaca.

We left, ran away, selling the house for pennies. Mom was afraid of degenerating into a bigfoot, accustomed to answering questions: “do you need a package or not?”, “Big or small?”, “Card or cash?”. Naive, we thought we had somewhere to run.

Don’t leave your house! Your Ithaca is for that and Ithaca, which allows you to feel like a king. It is impossible to forget the landscape of childhood, but you can meet its decline. Why such an experience if you, for example, are not a poet? And you still have to return to capture the fall of Ithaca, no matter how you get out.

I am strong, and how many times I remember, I shudder so many times. I mumble something inarticulate from pain, and loudly so, not funny at all. Even those around you turn around. And I just drown out the heartburn of the heart, the bronchitis of the soul. Do you think it’s all about nostalgia? No. You’re wrong. Everything is more difficult.

It always seemed to me that the world is the superimposed properties of various objects, and the artist’s task is to recognize these layers and devalue them by demonstrating them to the people. It is known, after all, that before the “Black Square” Malevich depicted a horse or something like that on canvas. The same, apparently tortured filly, who galloped through Nietzsche’s biography, Raskolnikov’s dream, Mayakovsky’s lyrics and became a delicacy at Astafiev’s already in some 1970s.

Three years later I had to return to my Ithaca, to the village of Rakitnoye. The father of the family, who bought the house built by my parents, said that he found some documents and an old photo album. I decided to return the find to the family. When I returned to Rakitnoye, I did not experience tender feelings, because I knew that I would see what I had seen many times before I was twenty years old. Only there will be more garbage and the forest will finally overgrow. And so it turned out.

My native white-brick house made me a little pitiful. For a moment, I remembered how my mother and father and I were mercilessly dumped in a solution of clay, water and straw. The fact is that the coating intended for the partition between the house and the roof is not enough to pound with bare feet all day, being distracted by drinks and snacks. According to building superstitions, the owners should be dumped in it, otherwise the house will collapse. So we were dragged into this terrible mess. The whole crowd of disinterested helpers laughed for a long time. And then, together with my father, we washed in a summer shower. Then for the first time I saw an adult man without clothes, and this man seemed alien and dangerous.

The newly arranged yard and the young cherries in the garden were such strangers now. Alien, not my mother’s rug, alien muzzles of shoes, a nasty blue light from a light bulb not covered by flies, and even some kind of hostile smell. The house didn’t recognize me. He did not collapse on his knees in snot and did not wink with the window sashes. Traitor.

“Hello,” Igor gently shook my hand.

He sincerely rejoiced at my arrival and, it seems, was embarrassed, suspecting a complex of Lyubov Ranevskaya in me.

To calm him down, I said:

“It happens like this: I haven’t been there for three years, but I feel like I’ve come here for the first time,” I looked around with feigned attention to detail. — Oh, the renovation was done! Well done! And we never got together. Mom hated those wallpapers with gray flowers, but she would have liked these arrows (or what is it?). Did you glue it yourself?

– Lera – wife. I hardly helped because of work, and she took a vacation, and here it is.

— You…

— Come on, we don’t have much difference, right?

I didn’t object. They are good people. Too, perhaps, intelligent. But not nasty, not ingratiating, not “please, allow”, but real “good people”. I wouldn’t come to livestock.

Lera was running from the stove to the table in an apron, but when she heard me, she ran out into the corridor towards me, hugged me (strange greeting, I hate it) and quickly started talking about the rain that could happen on the way. It was like I was riding a horse.

Lera changed her color, and the belly of her glasses has increased significantly. Just looking at her glasses, I remembered Yasha.

— Where is Yasha? I asked carefully. You never know.

— So he’s in his room, — Igor answered, opening the door to my former room.

She has not changed. A gloomy closet appeared, but I did not immediately notice it. Shelf with books, but not mine. A chair, an ottoman, on which, it cannot be, I wrote the first poems, and then stories under Andreev. Sometimes he cried, often read, and once, quite a long time ago, he lay across it and was afraid of the dark. From the hall came the screams of terrorists, ready to break into our house through the TV.

Yasha turned around and looked with blind eyes.

Hello.

His hand hung in the air, I caught it and shook it.

— How old are you?

— Fifteen, and you?

“Not for you, but for you,” Lera corrected her son.

– Come on. Yasha, everything is fine. I’m fifteen too, only with a ponytail.

His moon-like expression did not change. Without blinking, he got up and walked around me. Lera turned away. Igor immediately started talking about how they found our things during the renovation, and discreetly led me to the table. They were afraid that their blind son would frighten me.

Yasha was born blind. An absurd failure in nature provided the child with life in darkness. Igor and Lera did everything so that their son did not feel inferior. Replacing each other, they read books to him, explained the meaning of words, and he greedily grabbed at everything, trying not only to catch up with his peers, but also to overcome himself, his misfortune.

“Everything was very tasty,” I announced, raising a glass of homemade wine. — I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, so…

— What are you doing, — Igor calmly interrupted me. “We have already decided that you will stay the night. Tomorrow is a day off. Don’t hate us.

“The duck has been marinating since morning,” Lera added, carefully choosing tomatoes from the salad.

— Stay, please. We welcome guests. Honestly, ”Yasha said sternly, and then he got up, went to the sink and carefully lowered the plate into her goiter.

Everything was easy for him. Well, at least I didn’t wash the dishes.

After Yasha called me for a walk, and now I remember this walk as a drunken dream.

Who are you?

– Are you asking about the profession?

– Answer the way you really think.

I liked the way Yasha speaks.

“I’m a writer,” I admitted. – Still not very good.

— I thought so. You carefully examined the books in my room.

Yasha carefully sat down, as if his head outweighed his body, felt for the worms of the laces and wrapped them in a bow.

— How do you know? I asked, looking around for some reason.

— You breathed for a long time near them.

Maybe I was looking out the window? Bookcase by the window.

He smiled:

— There are blinds on the window, and they are always curtained. Let’s go.

What the hell is he living in! I thought about it and felt myself losing my temper. As if reading minds, Yasha asked:

— You probably think that I am a poor boy who has never seen people?

I nodded, and then, coming to my senses, said aloud:

— Yes. I’m trying to figure out how it is. I close my eyes and get scared.

— There is no need to close your eyes. I didn’t lose my sight. I never had it – it’s quite different. You have one world and I have another. No need to think about whose world is richer. My parents have read thousands of books to me, I have touched things that would never interest a sighted person, and I also have music, and I understand something in it. You know, give me a tour. Tell me what you see We did this with dad, but not here, not in Rakitny. In other places.

He made a sign and I took his hand. Apparently, he could not move on without my help. We went out to a wide street ending in a transformer box. Yasha raised his hand and broke the twig. He brought it up to his face, inhaled it and handed it to me at random. I also sniffed – it’s lilac, its smell took me back to childhood. Not knowing what to do with the twig, I threw it under my feet and stepped on it.

Yasha is familiar with most manifestations of life purely theoretically. Thinking with horror that in his world there is no palette of colors, and ugliness, apparently, differs from beauty in an excess of consonants, I began to babble something about trees. I had a difficult writing exam coming up – using words to recreate the world in real time, without the possibility of editing.

“Hello,” Baba Nina said slowly, completely unchanged over the years. Bent over like a tree felled by a thunderstorm, she collected water from a column that had miraculously survived under the onslaught of civilization.

“Hello,” Yasha smiled, turning his head in the right direction.

“How well he does it! Maybe he’s faking it. Leads everyone by the nose, ”I thought, and nodded in greeting.

– What is Baba Nina like? Yasha asked when we walked away.

“Words, words, where are you? How stupid you are!”

– Thick. Here is your mother – like half of Nina’s woman.

“That’s understandable,” Yasha interrupted. What else is she?

I wanted to say that she is always dressed in a red woolen scarf, but I stopped short. I started throwing out adjectives, reducing everything to functional verbs and nouns that you can touch or smell.

– Baba Nina smells bad because she is busy with goats. As a child, she treated me to tomatoes from her own garden, and they gave off a goat spirit.

— I thought so. What’s around?

— So… We are walking along a narrow paved path. It could fit two more like us. Not more. To our right is a forest. He… Did you touch the hair on your head? Some kind of forest. There are many. Don’t hug. To our left are the houses. They are all… the same, although they are different colors. They are tight because of them.

Don’t worry. You can name colors. Everyone is afraid to call me in front of me, but in vain. I have black – it’s like bread, white – cold water, red – tongue, and blue – a cut.

— Interesting… Hey, why do you have a laptop in your room?

– I listen to music. I press the same buttons. My dad set it up for me. There are also films. I listen to them.

— And what kind of films do you like?

Yasha laughed:

– Black and white.

This joke was so touching. I smiled, something feminine was born in my soul, something that can be turned into poetry.

“With credits,” Yasha added. – They say that these are letters at the bottom of the screen, and letters are signs on paper, and paper is what they wipe their ass with. Are titles like ass paper? Yes?

He laughed, knowing full well how unusual and surprising everything he said was.

We were approaching the stadium, and Yasha reminded me:

— Don’t forget about the tour. Speak.

— Yes, sorry… We are approaching the stadium. Just imagine that you can run for about a minute and not run into anything. And there is grass underfoot, and a lot of air. The whole thing is round, like donuts. Have you eaten bagels?

Yasha nodded, stumbling. I supported him.

– Here is a stadium – a huge donut with grass inside. It is for running and playing.

– I’m blind, not an idiot. Don’t explain, just describe.

— Yes, I’m an idiot here. So… what else… what else… A car rushed past us – here.

— Which one?

– “Nine”. She’s like a giant bucket, you know?

– Of course. Do you have a car?

— No. I’m a writer. I do not have money.

— By the way, — Yasha stopped. – Let me touch you. Maybe you’ll be great, so I should take the chance. I haven’t touched writers yet.

He ran a sweaty hand over my head, pricked my stomach with his finger, and wrinkled my cheeks for a long time.

– Wow, you’re bald! I think: why doesn’t it smell like shampoo? A big nose – it seems to be ugly for you, right?

He often repeated this frightening “you”.

— Well, not so much… It happens in every way. I’m nothing, actually.

– Yeah, here is your stomach, you can’t get to the ribs. Hairy hands. Like a father. What’s this? Scar?

— Yes, they sewed my arm.

– Fell?

– From the bike.

— I understand. I ran into a knife. There was blood. Mom was crying.

We went further. We met people whom I have already forgotten, but they do not seem to me. They peered at me with surprise and some greeted me. I answered and told Yasha about them. Then we walked along the crumbling hostel. I did not know how to convey his decline, so I remained silent.

— What is around?

Shops, trees, factory in the distance. Twilight, by the way.

— Which factory?

— It’s like… It looks like houses, only it… You know the word “castles” right? Have you read any horror stories?

– Of course.

— This is what you feel when you hear the word “castle” – the same thing you should feel when you hear the word “factory”.

— I need to go to the toilet. Organize privacy.

We walked along a grove of poplars. I didn’t know what to say about them. Candles? Here in the thick of these “candles” we hid.

“My father worked in a factory,” I said. – Loader. He carried heavy bags from place to place. Very undermined health. Heart breaks. And now this plant, which no one needs, is falling apart. He’s like a freak in the middle of the village.

— Everyone has a different concept of beauty. My favorite thing is dogs. Pleasant to the touch.

I thought that Yasha did not touch women and wanted to ask: “Do you like girls?” How will he do it?

— Do you have any friends?

Yes. At school. They treat me well. Just too sorry. They drive like an idiot through the corridors.

We approached the factory pond. Yasha wanted to dip his hands into it. I said:

– Here is the pond. Do you remember the feeling in the bathroom? So, imagine a bathroom that can accommodate several thousand people at the same time. I see so much water at the same time. And in the water of this fish, algae, dirt and debris. The swine is human.

Yasha sat on the grass and thought. He tried to imagine.

“It’s getting dark,” I said, realizing the absurdity of this message.

– Mom says it’s like slowly stuffing her ears, right?

Yes. Exactly! Your mother used to formulate. I still don’t know how to do it. Everything is painted in several colors. It’s as if you only hear two sounds out of a million possible.

– Like bad music. Like pop, huh?

Yes. Exactly! The evening is like pop.

We were returning home, and now I sometimes stumbled, completely unaccustomed to all these paths, which I walked many times. I forgot, I forgot everything!

We had supper in the evening. I, carried away, told Yasha that the duck is like a pillow.

“Hot pillow,” he added.

Before going to bed we chatted about literature. He said that he liked Pushkin and someone else. I recommended Hemingway’s early stories. He asked Leroux to write it down. Then, left alone with me, he asked:

– Do you have a girlfriend?

— No.

— Why?

I didn’t have an answer.

“I didn’t find one that would be nice to talk to,” I thought, but nevertheless answered.

Yasha was delighted and, pushing me on the shoulder, whispered:

— So I’m looking for one for myself. To have something to talk about. About books there, about impressions, about the weather.

I suppressed the wet lump in my throat.

— You are correct. So it is necessary. Most importantly, listen carefully to what she says. There is beauty in this.

— Yes, — Yasha agreed, got up from the floor (we were sitting on the floor). I hope you write a good book. Thanks for this day. I don’t know what’s in those photos, but I’m glad they exist. Before that, as you understand, I didn’t care about the photo.

“I understand,” I answered and went into the hall. Where my father used to sleep.

I lay in bed and listened: was Yasha crying in her room? No. He slept snoring.

What fills his dreams?

I have been exhausted this day. Outwardly, everything remained fine, but my soul was secretly subjected to moral tests. She responded to signals with pain and, therefore, lived. Himself to blame. No need to come back. I was afraid that I would become limp because of the house, because of the memories, but pity for Yasha outweighed. I now thought only of him. Or maybe it just all fell apart at once.

I don’t know why, but I started crying. With sobs, like a woman. I was afraid to wake everyone up and hid my head under the covers. And in the morning, after saying goodbye to Leroy and Igor, I left. I didn’t wait for my blind friend to wake up.

I know that the last sentence of my story is monstrous, but Yasha would have liked it. He would understand.

I didn’t say goodbye to Yasha because I couldn’t look into his eyes.

[Development] UH-1D: German Iroquois – News

[Development] UH-1D: German Iroquois – News – War Thunder

UH-1D: German Iroquois

October 17, 2018

In developing

Export version of the American “Iroquois” for the German army – with an enlarged fuselage, a new propeller and engine!

The experience of using multi-purpose helicopters of the UH-1 series showed that the machine has no noticeable flaws and turned out to be very successful. The success of the Iroquois, of course, did not go unnoticed by the US allies. When the Americans released the Model D, the German government agreed to purchase a license for the production of the latest Iroquois at the facilities of German enterprises – primarily Dornier. Starting February 1967 years and until 1981, German aircraft manufacturers assembled 352 UH-1D

modifications

What is the difference between the “Iroquois” version “D” and the base model? First of all, dimensions. The UH-1B left a fair amount of space for the payload, so in the UH-1D modification, the fuselage was lengthened and made wider, the overall length of the helicopter increased by more than 1 meter. A new main rotor with a large blade span was installed, as well as rotary stabilizers, as on the UH-1C version. The shape of the nose of the fuselage has changed somewhat: the bottom of the hull was made rounded rather than flat, the location of the antennas and light signaling elements has changed. The German manufacturer abandoned the pilot seat armor that appeared on the Iroquois during the Vietnam War, so the UH-1D has no armor. For the UH-1D in War Thunder, we settled on several sets of weapons that were used for the UH-1 series.

In the game, the UH-1D is located at rank V in the line of German helicopters. Pilots of the German Iroquois will be armed with six-barreled 7.62-caliber miniguns in two containers on the sides of the fuselage, Hydra-70 unguided rockets, and 6 AGM-22 ATGMs, which will allow them to penetrate most ground targets at their rank. Just like the American UH-1B and UH-1C, the German “Iroquois” fits in quite organically in rank V battles, and in the same way has the potential to compete with older vehicles. Due to the fact that the helicopter has no armor and only one engine, the pilot will have to learn how to avoid enemy fire of any caliber, and as a first modification it would be wise to study anti-fragmentation vests for pilots. Before studying ATGMs, we recommend not getting involved in massive skirmishes with ground vehicles, but focusing on destroying “snipers” and light armored vehicles. But after installing anti-tank missiles, you can afford a lot – 6 missiles make it possible to calmly pick up several opponents for each sortie. Keep your distance, carefully guide the missiles to the target and do not get caught in the anti-aircraft guns – and you will not be equal!

UH-1D will appear in War Thunder update 1.83 “Masters of the Sea”!

See also:

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