I’m seriously getting tired of our
schedule. Its horseshit. This is the second time we’ve had to go on
two week hiatus for some such reason like national holidays or
torrential down pours. If I could figure out who was forcing our team
to take such long and agonizing breaks I’d punch him so hard he’d
only be able to grow a thin pedo-stache for Movember.
Ball Me Maybe I hope you are prepared
for this. This game is going to be a big pile of sexy topped with
some awesome sauce. Its No Shave November, we haven’t played in two
weeks, we are finely forged athletes that never played ball sports
past the 10th grade, and we’re bringing a cooler full of
booze. If you are trying to picture this let me help you.
He’s whispering to you. “Hola, me
llamo GDKA. Que Smoldery!”
Post game we’ll be looking for high
fives and smiles. Don’t get all upset about the beatdown. Don’t
be pouty, or sad. Be happy, excited, and above all us, Be Drunk.
For shame, WAKA Austin. For shame. We have let what was once a staple of our league go from a beacon of hope to a flaming bag of dog poo left on Jay's doorstep. The GMOT was, at the height of its excellence, the kind of girl who gets drunk and orders the sex, not once, but TWICE, from the bartender. Or that guy who drunkenly booty texts his team's group chat to let them know he just wants the loving. Now the GMOT is past its prime, and it's like the guy who drunkenly falls down the stairs and poops his pants. Or the girl who passes out at Third Base and then cries in the parking garage about a guy SHE broke up with.
What happened to us, guys? We were so fun, so clever, so full of spirit! Have we lost our heart? Are we jaded? Are we just old and unwilling to put in a little bit of work and mild dedication to breathe life back into the lifeless corpse that we call a GMOT? Has all of the fire water we've been drinking limited our ability to write creative/ridiculous copy for all the league to see?
I say this, Austin: we need to get back there. We need to bring the GMOT back to its former glory. I don't know what changed over the last few seasons, but we have collectively dropped the ball on what once was a glorious compilation of drunken rhetoric and creatively-crafted trash talk.
Let's make this GMOT the tightest butthole IN THE UNIVERSE.
LOVE YOU ALL IN A REALLY CREEPY WAY,
Your friendly, neighborhood Candy Van
Well after an ugly start to the season due to some missing pieces Relax appears to be rolling, winning our last 3 games. Last week was a good game against the poor poor Walks. Lets face it, their offense is just terrible. But wait, they scored 8 runs against us the first time we played!! They were the best team in the universe!! What happened!?!? Well the answer to this question is simple either there was only one team in the universe they were living in, OR the universe was filled with weird aliens who have no arms or legs. It's never a good idea to run your mouth for 5 weeks to a team that your record is something along the lines of 1-78 against, C'MON MAN!! Look we like yall, you're all good people, we let you hang out with us, but you're not as good or even close. So fall in line Walks and compete for the Robin position, you're not ready to be Batman.
This week we've got the Teabaggers, they dominated us the first time out and then let us back into the game resulting in a tie. They've played well all season and we MIGHT be able to get 10 to the game this week so we'll see what happens.
In a wildly unexpected display of kickball competence, Kick Away secured another win last week by coming from behind in the bottom of the 5th, down 2 runs, 2 away, to win the f*** out of that game. YEAH! !!! It was awesome. We weren't the best dressed out there (What's up Ball Me Maybe?) but there something inherently terrifying about a giant chicken flying around the field, driving balls from his padded foot with the force of a greek god, and gracefully diving back to first base when threatened with a potential throwdown. When the rest of the team is wholly incapable of making mistakes and simply plays good quality offense, you've got a force to be reckoned with.
This week we play the prodigious Sons of Pitches, who were last seen moping around the field dejectedly after a close loss last week. (Turns out they were just looking for somebody's keys, but it was still pretty funny). I never like to underestimate the power of the Purple, so team leadership has conferred and we have settled on a strategy unique to this particular matchup: we're gonna Get Drunk and Kick Away.
Twice TnB has been a part of the game of the week and twice TnB has been picked to lose. We are nice people, with good hearts. We prefer the teachings of Ghandi and Mother Teresa to Napolean or Ghengis Khan.
But, at some point ENOUGH IS ENOUGH. Even the kindest of souls has its breaking point. So, last week, after another dominating victory in a game we were picked to lose, TnB broke. Our normally loving language turned to a repeated chorus of "Fuck You Stephen" and our gentle giant Nate was dispatched to make sure our message was heard.
Let the following serve as a warning. To all the haters, to all the doubters, to anyone who picks against TnB, this is what you can expect!
Look, I know the whole animated GIF thing is rather dated in terms of internet memes. Internet memes are one thing that Candy Van is okay with being a little bit older. Tonight, we play the Douchebaggers at 8:45 p.m. Probably on field 1. 90% of our team will be blacked out. Just how these things work, ya know? Here are some things that are probably gonna happen tonight:
When Tom & Valerie make up after Tight & Bright beats That Kick Cray:
When Tom goes up to kick against James:
And then James gets the weirdest boner and his team is like:
But Candy Van is like:
When Valerie gets drunk and starts hitting on every male at the fields:
And Eric Goodyke gets excited about it:
When Joey comes up to kick and the teabagger outfield is all:
When CV is up by 5 and the Teabaggers don't know what happened:
When everyone realizes just how drunk Joey is for the game:
When Liz officially joins the League of Married Women:
We are indomitable champions of refusing to lose, and can tie just about any team in this league. Especially those Balls Deeper fellows who have even more ties than we do. It was a game that was ours to win, but as usual we found new and creative ways to move the opposing baserunners around the diamond, and ultimately managed to choke away a win.
We're running up against the Faceballs this week, and we're done screwin around. Set your privacy settings to RESTRICTED because you don't want your friends seeing what we're going to do to you tonight. Not only will we be winning the award for most merciless beat down, but we're also gunning for most non-sensical costume, loudest strike call, highest kick, most Joose consumed, best looking outfield, most take out slides at second, least appropriate under-the-breath comment while slapping hands after the game, and shrillest indignant questioning of a referees call. It's all-out tonight.