The Prairie Score: Sandhill's Lake Country Baseball Breakdown

Three innings of silence on the prairie... not a bobber twitched. Then the fourth inning cracked open like a window in a Frank Lloyd Wright house — letting all the light in at once. The DockHounds didn't just score. They built a whole new wing.

You're listening to Sandhill's Dock Report from Louie's Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I'm the Sandhill. Tonight: the DockHounds found their load-bearing moment in the fourth inning and never looked back — a 10-6 win over Cleburne, carved from the middle three frames.

THE GAME IN THE WATERS

Four innings of nothing. Zeroes across the board... like a house with no weight on the joists. Then the fourth inning shored up the whole structure. Three runs — on a double, a walk, and a single — just enough to crack the silence. But the Railroaders answered with two of their own in the bottom half... so the DockHounds did what any Prairie architect would do: they extended the horizontal line. Four more runs in the fifth. Three more in the sixth. That's ten runs on twelve hits in a three-inning stretch, no wobble in the foundation. Jack Ben-Shoshan took the win, keeping the load balanced while the offense poured it on. Even with two errors in the field, the frame held. When you build a run like that, you don't just add bricks — you lay a whole new floor. Cleburne scratched back with two in the fourth, two in the fifth, then single runs in the seventh and eighth. But the DockHounds' lead was poured concrete by then — six to four, then eight to six, then ten to six. Never closer.

PATTERNS & READ

Here's the structural truth: the DockHounds scored all ten runs in a three-inning band — fourth, fifth, sixth. That's not a scattered breeze. That's a deliberate load transfer. Twelve hits clustered into twelve outs tells me this lineup is finding its rhythm as one unit, not as isolated beams. The pitching held that shape just enough — Ben-Shoshan absorbed the counter-punches without letting the roof cave in.

The DockHounds built a house in the fourth inning, then added a second story in the fifth. The Railroaders kept patching the roof — but the structure was sound. When the last out settled in the glove, the house stood solid — like a heron lifting off the marsh... slow at first, then all at once.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever see a Prairie house unload its whole weight at once — roof beam, wall, and window all settling into one low line? Tonight the DockHounds did that. Three runs in the fourth, four in the fifth, three in the sixth. That ain't gradual growth. That's a load-bearing wall that took the whole structure with it.

You're listening to Sandhill's Dock Report from Louie's Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I'm the Sandhill. Tonight: The DockHounds pour ten runs across three innings and send Cleburne's foundation into the swamp.

Frank Lloyd Wright designed the Robie House to stretch low and horizontal — never fight the land. DockHounds pitching did the opposite tonight. Jack Ben-Shoshan got the win, but Cleburne hit 11 times, scored 6. That roof leaks a little. But the offense? That was Unity Temple geometry — solid, square, every piece locking in. The fourth inning: three runs landed soft, like a cast settling on the weed line. The fifth: four more — a load that snapped John Baker's arm like a rotten rafter. The sixth: another three, a cantilever that kept reaching. Twelve hits all night, but bunched. That's the secret. When you pile your lumber in one load, the house stands. Scatter it, you get a tool shed. Tonight they built a temple.

Pattern clear: DockHounds score in bursts. All ten runs came innings four through six. That's not luck — that's a structural rhythm. The rotation still gives up horizontal gaps — 11 hits, 2 errors — but if the offense clusters like that, the foundation holds.

Bobber's verdict: A win is a win. But a Prairie house with a cracked subfloor still makes a lousy shelter when October wind hits. The DockHounds built a masterpiece of load-bearing lumber tonight. The pitching gave up enough runs that the roof might sag come September. On a night of 554 souls, they proved they can pile it high. Question is whether the beams hold. The bobber dips.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever watch a crane set its wings against a stiff wind — holding perfect line, then suddenly the whole frame goes crooked, and it folds? That was tonight’s DockHounds. A foundation poured in the first inning, three runs on a morning of promise... and then the prairie shifted.

You’re listening to Sandhill’s Dock Report from Louie’s Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I’m the Sandhill. Tonight: a three-run first that felt like a cornerstone, until Cleburne’s fifth inning cracked the whole framing.

That first inning, boys — nine DockHounds stepped to the dish, three came home. Eleven hits total on the night... but only one more run after that. Prairie architecture is all about the horizontal line — pitching that stretches across the frame without interruption. For four innings, Cade Hansen held that line. Then came the fifth. Four runs on a handful of hits, and the horizontal snapped. You could feel the weight settle on the beams. Hansen’s line: five runs, seven hits, zero errors on the DockHound side — but when a foundation cracks, it don’t matter that the walls are straight. The Railroaders didn’t outhit Lake Country; they just waited for the wind to change, and it did.

Patterns? The DockHounds have been building early leads like a carpenter rushing the roof before the storm. Eleven hits but only four runs — that’s lumber stacked up, never nailed down. And when the bullpen door swings, the ballgame is a floating dock that forgot its mooring.

Bobber’s Verdict: A three-run lead is a pretty porch in prairie light — lovely, until you realize the whole house is sitting on a foundation of sand. Tonight, Cleburne drove the pilings deeper. The DockHounds? They’re still hauling lumber to the site.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever watch a Frank Lloyd Wright house try to hold its line against a straight-line wind? That roof wants to float—but when the gusts come, the cantilever starts to groan. Tonight, the DockHounds' prairie line didn't just groan—it tore off somewhere over the left-field fence in Cleburne.

You're listening to Sandhill's Dock Report from Louie's Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I'm the Sandhill. Tonight: the DockHounds found a single brick in the fourth inning, and then the whole wall came down.

A.J. Block opened this game like he was laying the first horizontal course of a long, low ranch. Quiet efficiency through three—a groundout, a pop-up, a strikeout looking. The Prairie School teaches that the horizontal line is the anchor of any structure. For three innings, Block held that line true.

Then came the fourth. A walk, a single, a sacrifice fly—just one run for Cleburne, and the DockHounds answered back in the bottom half. A leadoff walk, a stolen base, a groundout to second that scored the runner. One run. One brick in the wall. You felt it… maybe this was the load-bearing moment.

But architecture doesn't forgive cheap materials. In the fifth, the gusts arrived. Three runs on four hits—a double, a single, a hard-hit ball that skipped past the second baseman's glove. That crack in the foundation was all Cleburne needed. By the seventh, three more runs. By the eighth, two more. The horizontal line gave way to a split-level collapse.

You know what a seven-run loss feels like on a dock at midnight? It feels like reeling in a line that's been cut—nothing but slack and the knowledge something big got away.

The pattern here is a team that finds one moment of tension—one run, one inning, one pitch—and then lets the entire frame sag. Five hits tonight, scattered across seven innings like random field stones. No error on the board for Lake Country, but baseball's true structural flaw isn't an error in the box score; it's the inability to square up when the wind shifts. A.J. Block couldn't find his secondary stuff after the fourth, and the bullpen couldn't stanch the bleed. This team has to learn how to lay a second horizontal line before the first one cracks.

So what did this game actually tell us? It told us that the clearest architectural plans mean nothing if you can't pour a foundation when the weather turns. The DockHounds built a single wall in the fourth, then left the rest of the house open to the prairie. Tonight, Cleburne blew right through it. Tomorrow, maybe they figure out how to set a proper roof beam. But right now… that bobber is still sitting where it landed—no ripple, no bite, just the quiet of a ballgame that decided its own ending long before the final out.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever see a Frank Lloyd Wright house that held up fine through three seasons of winter, only to find a single crack in the foundation by the fourth spring? That’s the DockHounds tonight. They opened the first inning like a Prairie-style cantilever—bold, hanging three runs off the board right there in Cleburne. Eleven hits, no errors, all the structural grace you could ask for. But one frame in the fifth? That crack ran deep. And by the time the dust settled, the whole roof sagged.

You’re listening to Sandhill’s Dock Report from Louie’s Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I’m the Sandhill. Tonight: the DockHounds build a beautiful three-run porch, then watch the fifth-inning storm rip the shingles off.

That first inning felt like Wright laying the corner stone on the Winslow House — three runs, clean, purposeful. The lineup strung together hits like horizontal lines on a long roofline: single, single, another single, then a double to clear the bases. You could hear the train whistles from Cleburne’s depot thinking, “These DockHounds came to build something.” The Railroaders? They didn’t crack the scoreboard until the fourth—one solo run, a little trim work, nothing structural. But then the fifth inning hit, and that’s where the beams gave way. Four runs came across for Cleburne on just three hits, but those hits were loaded with intention—a two-run double, a two-run single. The DockHounds never scored again after the fifth. They stranded men in scoring position in the sixth, seventh, and eighth like half-finished rooms. Cade Hansen, the lad on the mound for that fifth, didn’t have the mortar to stop the leak. Aaron Mishoulam and Ryder Yakel tightened up for Cleburne, and the DockHounds’ eleven hits? They turned into four finished floors and a roof that whistled. You don’t lose a game with eleven hits, you lose it with the one inning you couldn’t hold water in a paper bucket.

PATTERNS & READ The DockHounds’ early-season habit of striking in the first and then letting the sawdust settle is becoming a structural rhythm. Tonight they scored over three-quarters of their runs in the first inning, and then went silent the final four frames. The pitching held horizontal until the fifth, then broke. That fourth- and fifth-inning vulnerability — allowing five of Cleburne’s six hits in those two frames — is a crack in the foundation that needs Frank Lloyd Wright himself with a trowel.

The Bobber’s Verdict: The DockHounds built a three-run facade on a two-run foundation, and the Railroaders — they know how to test a weak span. Eleven hits and no errors sounds like a beautiful blue print. But if your blueprints stop after the fifth, you’re just painting a house that’s already leaning. Tonight, that lean turned into a tumble. The sawdust settles, and the marsh is quiet. We learn what kind of builder we are by what we do with the next cast.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever see a Frank Lloyd Wright house with a roof that just… gave up? That’s what tonight felt like. The Prairie School builds low to the ground, horizontal, sheltering. But when the wind shifts, even the finest cypress can splinter. The DockHounds held the lead like a lintel across a wide window—until Cleburne’s train came through and took the whole structure with it.

You’re listening to Sandhill’s Dock Report from Louie’s Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I’m the Sandhill. Tonight: a one-run lead that felt like a foundation stone, until the Railroaders laid down a whole new track.

A.J. Block was building something tidy. Four innings of horizontal grace—fastballs on the corners, changeups dropping like a bobber in still water. The DockHounds gave him a single copper penny in the fourth: a walk, a single, a sacrifice fly, and just like that, they had the load-bearing run on the board. On the road at Cleburne, 417 folks watching. Quiet enough to hear the crickets.

Then the fifth inning arrived, and the foundation cracked. Three runs on four hits. The Railroaders aren’t named for slow freight—they came off the rails and landed squarely on DockHound shoulders. Block got the hook, and the bullpen? Couldn’t re-set the keystone. Three more in the seventh, two in the eighth. It wasn’t a collapse so much as a beautiful house deciding it wanted to be a pile of sticks. The DockHounds managed five hits of their own—including a double in the fifth that went nowhere—and even got two errors from Cleburne’s fielders. But you cannot build a cathedral with stones that don’t fit the arch.

The pattern is becoming structural: the DockHounds don’t score when they draw close. Tonight they stranded runners in scoring position three times. Against a team that gave them extra outs. That’s not bad luck—that’s a roof missing half its shingles.

A one-run lead in the fifth is like a single cypress beam holding up the whole ridge. It can work, if the wind stays still. But the Railroaders brought a gale, and the beam snapped. The final score—8 to 1—is just the echo of that crack.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever see a Frank Lloyd Wright house with a roof that just… floats? Looks solid, but it's hanging on by a thread. That's what the DockHounds did tonight in Cleburne — built a beautiful three-run first, all Prairie School horizontals and clean lines… then the foundation cracked in the fifth, and the whole thing settled crooked.

You're listening to Sandhill's Dock Report from Louie's Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I'm the Sandhill. Tonight: a three-run lead that couldn't hold water against a single inning of Railroaders thunder.

That first frame was a masterclass in load-bearing. DockHounds put up three on four hits — a clean structural alignment, each base hit a carefully placed window letting in light. Then the game went into the horizontal plane for three innings: zeroes on both sides, like the long low line of a Prairie house resting on the ground. But in a Frank Lloyd Wright house, the horizontal line is an anchor. Here, it became a shelf for the Railroaders to stack their lumber. Fourth inning: a single run. Just a hairline crack. Then the fifth — and the whole roof came off. Four runs on four hits against Cade Hansen, whose off-speed stuff suddenly had no purchase. The DockHounds managed one more in the top of the fifth — a single run that felt like a patch job on a stressed beam. But the Railroaders' bullpen, led by Aaron Mishoulam and sealed by Ryder Yakel, applied a finish that was unyielding. Lake Country left the frame with eleven hits but no load-bearing sequence after that early surge. That's the thing about a three-run first — it's a beautiful cantilever, but if the counterweight doesn't hold, it's just a long way down.

Tonight's pattern is a familiar one for the DockHounds: the early innings are wide and inviting, like a marsh at dawn. But when the opposing team starts pulling water — four runs in a single sixth of the game — the lake level drops fast. The pitchers? They're fighting the current. Cade Hansen's line shows five innings, seven hits, four earned. He's not losing the game; he's losing the rhythm. And when the offense scores three in the first and then goes quiet for eight innings, that's a foundation that needs a deeper footing.

You build a house on a day like this, you hope the frame outlasts the weather. But tonight, the DockHounds built a beautiful first floor, then watched the storm roll in from the fifth inning. A four-run inning is an open window in a gale. The Railroaders didn't have more hits, they had the right hits — and that's the difference between a house that stands and a house that sighs. Final: Cleburne 5, DockHounds 4. Some nights the water just wins.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever watch a prairie house try to stand against a straight-line wind? That was tonight at the Cleburne depot. The DockHounds drew up a nice foundation—one run in the fourth, quiet structure, just a lean-to against the storm. But the Railroaders brought a whole gale in the fifth, seventh, and eighth. By the ninth, that little lean-to was just shingles and memory. Some nights the prairie just flattens you.

You're listening to Sandhill's Dock Report from Louie's Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I'm the Sandhill. Tonight: one run, five hits, and a railroad crew that kept adding floors until the whole house groaned.

That first four innings, the structure held. A.J. Block was working the prairie horizontal — low, wide, keeping the ball on the ground. Through four frames he'd allowed just a single hit, a couple of walks. Then the fifth inning came like a snapped load-bearing beam. Three runs crossed. Two more walks. Block got pulled with two outs and the bases empty, but the damage was done. Meanwhile, the DockHounds' offense... they got one in the fourth — a little cluster of singles, a sacrifice fly, a single run that felt like a single row of brick on a Frank Lloyd Wright chimney. But after that? Nothing. The bottom of the order went 0-for-12. Hampton settled in like a mason with good mortar. Then the seventh: another three-spot. The eighth: two more. The DockHounds' defense turned no errors — so the cracks were all in the off-speed stuff, not the glove work. Eleven hits against, only five for. That’s a house that’s all roof and no walls.

PATTERNS & READ: This is the third time in six weeks the DockHounds have been held to one run or fewer. The rotation’s been a shallow lake — flashes of depth, then a sandbar. Five hits tonight, but none for extra bases. The power drought post-June is real. And when you’re giving up three- and two-run innings like a split-level, the lake line just keeps rising.

Bobber's Verdict: You don’t win a ballgame with a single run, and you don’t build a house with a single wall. Tonight was a shed with a good view. The DockHounds had a look at a clean foundation early, but the framing got warped in the fifth. Cleburne kept adding rooms — three in the fifth, three in the seventh, two in the eighth — until the prairie house became a mansion the Hounds couldn’t afford. The question: can they pour a better foundation tomorrow, or is this structure already settling into the marsh? Right now, the bobber’s underwater, but it hasn’t snapped the line.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

The first inning felt like Frank Lloyd Wright laying out a prairie house — wide, open, promising. Three runs across the plate, eleven hits on the night... but somewhere in the fifth, that horizontal line buckled. Railroaders didn’t swing for the eaves — they swung through the foundation.

You’re listening to Sandhill’s Dock Report from Louie’s Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I’m the Sandhill. Tonight: a three-run first that turned into a five-inning squall — DockHounds lose a heartbreaker on the road, 5 to 4.

That top of the first... it had the feel of a good casting day — sun at your back, line cutting clean. Three runs on four hits, and for a moment you thought, *this boat’s got a straight keel.* But baseball’s like a slow-moving lake — you don’t see the current till it drags your anchor. The DockHounds tacked on one more in the fifth, making it 4-1. Eleven hits total — more timber than a Wright-designed roof truss. But Cleburne... Cleburne answered with a four-spot in the bottom of the fifth. Four runs on just five hits of their own, but they were the right hits. Took the lead, and then Ryder Yakel locked the door. The Railroaders’ defense committed one error, but Lake Country couldn’t string that last push together — left runners on like fish you couldn’t land. This one wasn’t a collapse; it was a structural shift — the load-bearing frame didn’t hold when the rain hit.

The pattern tonight: the DockHounds are getting on base — eleven hits speaks to that — but they’re not compressing those opportunities into runs. Only one scoring frame after the first. And that fifth inning? Cleburne’s four-run surge came off a pitching staff that had been quiet all night. The horizontal line broke when it mattered most.

Some games are like a dock that looks sturdy till a stronger current lifts the pilings. Tonight, the DockHounds built a fine first floor in the first inning, then forgot to add the second. Eleven hits, four runs, one lead that slipped through the timber. That’s not bad luck — that’s architecture without the tension rods.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts — and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.

You ever see a Frank Lloyd Wright house that just... sits there, all horizontal lines, hugging the ground, promising shelter? Then the wind comes through a single cracked window, and the whole structure starts humming a tune you didn't order. That was tonight in Cleburne. The DockHounds built a modest little bungalow in the fourth inning—one clean run, quiet, efficient. And then the Railroaders kicked in the foundation.

You're listening to Sandhill's Dock Report from Louie's Dock — Lake Country baseball, filed from the marsh. I'm the Sandhill. Tonight: a lone load-bearing run in the fourth, and then the Prairie line gave way to a three-story collapse.

THE GAME IN THE WATERS... This one started like a calm morning on Okauchee—surface flat, no chop. A.J. Block kept the Railroaders hitless through the first three innings, working that low-and-away seam like a foundation drain. In the fourth, the DockHounds finally got a bite: a run came home on a riser that found gap. One–zip, felt like solid footing.

But here's where the horizontal line breaks... In the fifth, Cleburne sent three runners across. A door swung open—a walk here, a seeing-eye single there—and suddenly the whole frame listed. Block was pulled, but the damage wasn't in the lumber, it was in the torque. The Railroaders put up another three in the seventh, then two more in the eighth. Eleven hits total, and the DockHounds' five hits felt like shingles on a roof that's already slid off the rafters.

One run on a summer night is like throwing a single bobber into a lake the size of Superior—you might get a nibble, but the big ones never bite alone.

That lone run in the fourth wasn't a lead, it was a target. And once the Railroaders saw the weak spot, they poured through.

PATTERNS & READ... What tonight revealed is a team that can find the occasional pocket of resistance—a clean inning here, a sharp hit there—but lacks the structural continuity to build a whole prairie. The pitching held for three innings, but couldn't sustain the roofline. The offense got one load-bearing moment, then went dormant. When a team gets two errors from the opponent and still loses by seven, the pattern isn't bad luck. It's a missing beam in the frame.

Bobber's Verdict... This game was a Frank Lloyd Wright house with the finest imported glass—and no lateral bracing. Beautiful for a moment, then it just folded. The DockHounds are still looking for a full set of plans.

Pull up a chair at louiesdock.com for the full game log, player lore, and the next cast. Subscribe wherever you get podcasts—and follow for the next Dock Report.

This is an unofficial fan project and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. Narrated entirely from independent dock observations. Goodnight from the marsh.

This is an unofficial fan podcast and is not affiliated with or endorsed by the Lake Country DockHounds or the American Association of Professional Baseball. All commentary represents independent fan observations from the marsh. Narrated by The Sandhill.