You want results? Here’s your damn results:
THANKS FOR SHOWING UP, EVERYONE. Observe here: the only activity that took place on the field at kickball-o-clock was the sudden, violent breaking of two hearts. Please, let’s have a better turnout next time.
Not shown: Two players limply kicking a ball back and forth between one another, and the both of them stopping because it’s hard to kick a ball when you’re crying.
Part of progress is pressing on even when the odds are against you, and the odds have recently gone out and purchased pepper spray and an angry dog, and the odds are seriously still holding a grudge against you from middle school gym class. The odds are a real jerk, but when you have such amazing kickball teams, the odds tend to sit on the sidelines and watch two groups of people enjoy a friendly game, and maybe the odds would even call their parents to tell them they love them. That’s what kickball tends to inspire: love. It also tends to inspire VICTORY. The teams!
Team I’m Still Bleeding!
Strengths: Bleeding, winning, winning while bleeding, official endorsement of Barack Obama.
Weaknesses: Dizzy, prone to fainting spells, anemic, vampires.
Team “Totally Tuesdays, Courtesy Of Me Asking Dean Online And Him Not Quite Remembering But Authorizing Me To Use That As Their Team Name”
Strengths: Sharp incisors, poeticness, Christian’s impeccable balance.
Weaknesses: Fear of bleeding people, no actual team name, disorganization, Black Plague.
This game was one for the long haul, as we played a full-length game matched by another unintentional almost-full length game. In the first game, balls were kicked in the traditional manner, and hearts were broken in all sorts of ways. In addition, we had a special guest appearance by Jenny From Chicago, who I repeatedly screamed was from New York. But that’s life, baby. Specifically, that’s the maelstrom of controlled chaos that kickball is. And plus, where else can you observe such whimsy in the face of binge-drinking?
Most Enthusiastic / Jerk People: EVERYONE ELSE (as you can see above, for example, April) was all smiles. Dean, on the other hand (and team, which will explain my hostility coming up right after this next parentheses) was a JERK for consistently catching my team’s kicks. Including mine. All animosity will be erased if he’s simply on my team next time.
Overall, another game that was filled to the brim with victory and bile and blood, all wrapped up in friendship and sunshine. New to the game? Great! Show up, bring a friend, kick some balls. I would also like to apologize for the very last play of the last game. I swear to god I thought Shawn Allen was behind me, where he usually is. Sorry about that, team.
Good job, everyone! The next game is at Speedway Meadows. Normal time, abnormal people. See you there.
Everything was like Arkansas with this game: just a little bit bigger and badder for you. We had a perfect turnout of over 40 people, which of course we right away made one half hate the other half via careful propeganda and initiated a game of kickball. The handsome teams:
The Flamin’ Hots:
Attributes: Steam-powered cybernetic implants instead of legs enabling absurd kicking power, collective respect of early Brit-Rock movement, can change color to match surroundings if feeling threatened.
Non-attributes: Team enthusiasm fueled by coal, diesel, beer. Irrational fear of round, red objects.
Attributes: No developed sense of fear, complete drive to press on even if losing by over 15 points, integrity, sexiness.
Not-So-Greats: Allergic to water, must take breaks every 10 minutes to get advice from L. Ron Hubbard’s ghost.
The teams went at each other with the fury of veteran warriors, or as we say in the midwest, like “a real son of a bitch”. In turn, it yielded both an incredible match, as well as incredible bloodshed. I always thought the term “blood fountain” was a dramatic term until Sunday came, when I realized it was very real and just as horrific.
Somehow, the score marched past any sort of rational number and was roughly 32-23 or something insane like that. It means many things: we’re getting better at scoring, and the Spirit Of Kickball is slowly possessing us, each one, until our last match cumulates with all of us going completely mad. Only a few more weeks!
During the last run, starved for points, Team Envied went for running the bases as a collective. On the brink of dehydration, we stormed home plate like so many frothing-at-the-mouth Vikings, and in the process sprained Jordan’s finger. Jordan also sustained a kickball to the eye socket. It’s nice to see people make sacrifices for the game, though I think all of us could do with less blood next time.
There were several new faces and it was very nice to meet every single one of you: remember, our next game is coming up! Check the schedule, and show up and have some fun. It’s the easiest thing to do in the world because we’re all so friendly and nice and welcoming and good-looking.
Things also got a little sexier with a girl-on-girl Drink-Off. Observe:
Hotttt. The title of this picture could have just read “peer pressure at a high school party”, but then again, it could have also read “AWESOME”. See you all soon!