Spikester at the Bat Mystery Cache
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Difficulty:
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Terrain:
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Size: 
(micro)
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The cache is not at the posted coordinates. Those coordinates however are a 'homey' place where great baseball/canine history was once made and are within 0.5 miles of the cache. The poem below will provide you with the actual location.
Spikester at the Bat
By MSCREP with apologies to Ernest Lawrence Thayer
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the K-Nine club that day;
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
But then HnnhDg drew a walk, and the Tibinator did the same,
And a pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty bark;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the park;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Spikester, mighty Spikester, was advancing to the bat.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the air,
And Spikester stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batdog the ball unheeded sped -
"That ain't my style," thought Spikester. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with fans, there went up a muffled yelp,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant kelp;
"Bite him! Bite the umpire!" they shouted without law;
And it's likely they'd have chawwed him up had not Spikester raised his paw.
With a smile of canine charity great Spikester's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Spikester still ignored it, and the umpire said "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered "Fraud!"
But one scornful bark from Spikester and the audience was awed.
They saw the pug grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Spikester wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer had fled from Spikester's lip, the teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Spikester's blow.
That ball, it went a flying out at heading 38.2 degrees.
Some swore it travelled many miles before it fell into the trees
But Spikester knew it left his bat at 80 miles per hour,
and inclined at 45 degrees, which indicated mighty power!
Oh, in this favored land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing disco, and many hearts are light,
And K-Nine fans are howling, and many dogs do bark;
For Spikester, mighty Spikester, has knocked it from the park.
Additional Hints
(Decrypt)
Trbzrgel - Rhpyvqrna
Culfvpf - Arjgbavna
Tenivgl - t = 32.2 sg/f^2
Pnpur - Rireterra