The Enniskillen Donkeys beat the Tyrone Turkeys 14-1 on Wednesday in a backyard, on grass, with a plastic bat, in front of a crowd consisting of me and three children who wanted to leave after four minutes.

Austin went 8-for-8 with three home runs. Eight at-bats, eight hits, zero strikeouts. He did not make an out. Not one. A man in his mid-twenties achieved statistical perfection against a ball with holes in it, and the celebration suggested a World Series had just been won. Chris chipped in 5-for-8 with a homer, which on any other night would be the story, and which he made sure to tell me was the story.

"We executed the game plan," said Chris, who does not have a game plan and has never had a game plan and whose game plan is swinging at everything.

The Donkeys scored two, then four, then eight, escalating like a fever. The Turkeys scored one in the first and then simply stopped, which is a defensible response to watching Austin bat for the fourth time.

Dean homered for Tyrone, the lone Turkey run of the evening, and rounded the bases at the speed of a man who wanted the moment noticed. Dan went 3-for-4, the best batting average in the yard that did not belong to a Donkey, and received roughly as much attention as the lawn. Kevin went 1-for-4. Nobody on either team struck out, in a league where the pitching is via machine and the umpire is a hunk of plastic.

"I thought we hung in there," said Dean, who did not think that and who was heard muttering something entirely different near the hedge.

Enniskillen moves to 3-1 with the win, tied atop this imaginary standings table with the Beavers, who beat these same Donkeys 3-1 earlier the same day. So the Donkeys lost by two and won by thirteen within a single evening, and only one of those results is being relived in my kitchen.

Tyrone falls to 1-3, losers of two straight. Next week, presumably, more of this.