Saturday, June 25, 2005
Welcome to the Rusty-Dome!!!
Here's the good word from Joy "Smack Yo Mama" Hayes, live via satellite from Chase Park:
To set the stage, we must comment, applaud, and give props to the fine fashions that were "White Trash Prom." Jorts, hickeys, glitter, big hoop earrings, movie-themed ties, and of course, a solid mullet made Saturday's games even more trash-tastic.
So at 12:55, we were a little nervous since there were only four Wranglers in the corral, but it was cool, since we didn't have a ref, and the friends from Ferocious luckily had all the equipment we needed (or at least, they went and stole some from the other game...whatever).
The original sweatpant-wearing Joy's boyfriend #1 came in, chain-smoking, to ref our game. I knew then that we were going to win. Another good sign? We got to call fair and square all 1st and 3rd base issues. FUN FACT: Did you know that Mr. No Backsies himself gets paid by WAKA to ref our games? Where was his hungover ass when we could have used him? It would have made our game's highlight even better.
Sadly, I don't recall great details of the game. Balls were kicked, balls were caught. Balls were kicked, balls were caught. It was hotter than a mother, and the glitter was starting to run...the hickeys stood strong.
So we've got two runs, they've got none. Dan Martin pitches like it's his job, and he's getting paid by WAKA. Who scored? Couldn't tell you. Blame it on the heat, blame it on the rain, blame it on all the Miller Lites I had to drink last night to have fun. At one point, we were so impressed with Chevy's action behind the plate that we all agreed that even the missing Rick Brands would have been impressed with his performance.
Remember when we used to think that Ferocious was trying to psyche us out with the jumping jacks? We were wrong, we were dead wrong. We made some new friends on the kickball field yesterday. Why? Two words: NO BACKSIES.
So the Karate Kid-looking guy on Ferocious won many style points with us for doing the Danny Larusso sweep the leg stance before batting. There was potential for Ferocious to get some cats on base, but poor Danny Larusso fell victim to the very contagious, very lethal, very black and white disease of extra bases on an overthrow.
I think it can be said that the highlight of the season may have been every Wrangler shouting in unison "NO BACKSIES!!!!!!!" Swett had a voice heard round the world, Dooley even chimed in with "We've even got it on a coozie." After letting my boyfriend know that we had gotten burned by the No Backsies rule in the past, even our Ferocious friends conceded that there were, in fact, no backsies.
So then it was over, the game was ours, Wranglers were victorious, and Lubbers busted out the PBR, ASAP.
The dumb blog-hating yellow team was still playing, and we were still cooking. Smart Wranglers that we are, we re-hydrated and re-lotioned. It was a scorcher. Hickeys...still strong. Ferocious turned tame, because they so graciously shared their orange slices and granola bars with us so we could fuel up to kick some 3:00 ass. We bartered back a beer or two for the big guy from Ferocious who totally agreed with the No Backsies call.
So James Brown's illegitimate children of WAKA finished their game, and because Dooley and I were on a tight bachelorette party schedule, when the ref came over to ask us to change fields (which we didn't want to do, it was a mental battle that we would end up losing), we said we'd move if we could start earlier than 3:00. I personally think they were trying to psyche us out, letting us cook while they sat back in their large village of yellow-shirted idiots. But in the end, it all came out in the wash.
What can be said about the championship game? Swetty degraded himself by sliding into home plate, something that he swore he would never do. Tone the Bone triple dog dared him to slide after a very valiant effort of Tone the Bone trying to get to first, but ending up on his ass. Dirty birdy.
Again, balls were kicked, balls were caught. Balls were kicked, balls were caught. Dan Martin worked his overtime magic to ensure a victory for the Wranglers. The never-ending question of "Who's got it?" from Dooley rang out far and wide. Fortunately, someone always answered, except for that really bad foul ball. Dooley says if Josh would have had an extra bowl of Wheaties, he may have made his millionth rock-star catch of the season.
One of James Brown's children got wounded trying to stop a Wrangler from getting to first, and he ended up bleeding. Lubbers made sure that guy got off the field, because he didn't want to get the hiv.
Solid, solid props to the peeps who came out to Wranglerville to ensure that the magic happened: Doug, Robin, Chevy, and Pat (who even had to change t-shirts, since the stupid ass yellow team didn't want him to distract) were great late-season additions who brought the noise and the funk.
I think we rained on James Brown's parade, and since they were so f@#*-ing serious about this whole deal, it was a little bit sweeter when victory was ours. Who knows what would have happened if we really had played Globetrotter style?
Again, Wranglers, totally worth the $74.
Love you, Mean it!
Joyjoy (with a sidecar of Dooley)
To set the stage, we must comment, applaud, and give props to the fine fashions that were "White Trash Prom." Jorts, hickeys, glitter, big hoop earrings, movie-themed ties, and of course, a solid mullet made Saturday's games even more trash-tastic.
So at 12:55, we were a little nervous since there were only four Wranglers in the corral, but it was cool, since we didn't have a ref, and the friends from Ferocious luckily had all the equipment we needed (or at least, they went and stole some from the other game...whatever).
The original sweatpant-wearing Joy's boyfriend #1 came in, chain-smoking, to ref our game. I knew then that we were going to win. Another good sign? We got to call fair and square all 1st and 3rd base issues. FUN FACT: Did you know that Mr. No Backsies himself gets paid by WAKA to ref our games? Where was his hungover ass when we could have used him? It would have made our game's highlight even better.
Sadly, I don't recall great details of the game. Balls were kicked, balls were caught. Balls were kicked, balls were caught. It was hotter than a mother, and the glitter was starting to run...the hickeys stood strong.
So we've got two runs, they've got none. Dan Martin pitches like it's his job, and he's getting paid by WAKA. Who scored? Couldn't tell you. Blame it on the heat, blame it on the rain, blame it on all the Miller Lites I had to drink last night to have fun. At one point, we were so impressed with Chevy's action behind the plate that we all agreed that even the missing Rick Brands would have been impressed with his performance.
Remember when we used to think that Ferocious was trying to psyche us out with the jumping jacks? We were wrong, we were dead wrong. We made some new friends on the kickball field yesterday. Why? Two words: NO BACKSIES.
So the Karate Kid-looking guy on Ferocious won many style points with us for doing the Danny Larusso sweep the leg stance before batting. There was potential for Ferocious to get some cats on base, but poor Danny Larusso fell victim to the very contagious, very lethal, very black and white disease of extra bases on an overthrow.
I think it can be said that the highlight of the season may have been every Wrangler shouting in unison "NO BACKSIES!!!!!!!" Swett had a voice heard round the world, Dooley even chimed in with "We've even got it on a coozie." After letting my boyfriend know that we had gotten burned by the No Backsies rule in the past, even our Ferocious friends conceded that there were, in fact, no backsies.
So then it was over, the game was ours, Wranglers were victorious, and Lubbers busted out the PBR, ASAP.
The dumb blog-hating yellow team was still playing, and we were still cooking. Smart Wranglers that we are, we re-hydrated and re-lotioned. It was a scorcher. Hickeys...still strong. Ferocious turned tame, because they so graciously shared their orange slices and granola bars with us so we could fuel up to kick some 3:00 ass. We bartered back a beer or two for the big guy from Ferocious who totally agreed with the No Backsies call.
So James Brown's illegitimate children of WAKA finished their game, and because Dooley and I were on a tight bachelorette party schedule, when the ref came over to ask us to change fields (which we didn't want to do, it was a mental battle that we would end up losing), we said we'd move if we could start earlier than 3:00. I personally think they were trying to psyche us out, letting us cook while they sat back in their large village of yellow-shirted idiots. But in the end, it all came out in the wash.
What can be said about the championship game? Swetty degraded himself by sliding into home plate, something that he swore he would never do. Tone the Bone triple dog dared him to slide after a very valiant effort of Tone the Bone trying to get to first, but ending up on his ass. Dirty birdy.
Again, balls were kicked, balls were caught. Balls were kicked, balls were caught. Dan Martin worked his overtime magic to ensure a victory for the Wranglers. The never-ending question of "Who's got it?" from Dooley rang out far and wide. Fortunately, someone always answered, except for that really bad foul ball. Dooley says if Josh would have had an extra bowl of Wheaties, he may have made his millionth rock-star catch of the season.
One of James Brown's children got wounded trying to stop a Wrangler from getting to first, and he ended up bleeding. Lubbers made sure that guy got off the field, because he didn't want to get the hiv.
Solid, solid props to the peeps who came out to Wranglerville to ensure that the magic happened: Doug, Robin, Chevy, and Pat (who even had to change t-shirts, since the stupid ass yellow team didn't want him to distract) were great late-season additions who brought the noise and the funk.
I think we rained on James Brown's parade, and since they were so f@#*-ing serious about this whole deal, it was a little bit sweeter when victory was ours. Who knows what would have happened if we really had played Globetrotter style?
Again, Wranglers, totally worth the $74.
Love you, Mean it!
Joyjoy (with a sidecar of Dooley)
