So I played softball last night. And we got our asses stomped. You see, this particular team I play on, made up mostly of high school coaches, has a lot of heart. Talent, on the other hand, is not so plentiful. So after two innings bitch-slapped 19-2. Seriously. You’d think they would invoke some kind of mercy rule, but we weren’t that lucky.

Anyway, during the last half of the inning, where the opposing team scored the bulk of their runs, and for what seemed to me to take an eternity as a camped out in left field, the batter popped the ball up between me and the shortstop. As I’m running in, and our shortstop, Jaime, is running out, I hear one of the guys on the opposing team yelling “I got it! I got it!”, in an effort to distract us. Well, for starters, neither one of us were going to reach the ball. It’s not like either of us got under it and were just waiting for the ball to fall in our glove. But seriously. They were up 19-2 and some douchebag on the other team was yelling “I got it”? WTF? What kind of guy does that? Probably the same kind of guy that would have dressed up like a woman to get off the Titanic.

That to me is the definition of “Bush League”. When you do piddly little things like that to show your lack of sportsmanship, you are definitely the kind of person that will slide into second base with your spikes in the air to make sure the GIRL can’t complete the double play. Not caring if they injure her, of course. To make matters worse, the league we play in is a rec league. A “beer” league, if you will. Not competitive in the least bit.

No doubt the jackass that yelled that used to beat up 2nd graders when he was in 5th grade. Because he obvously can’t play with the big boys. Loser.

But we definitely played like 2nd graders. No defending that. Final score was 22-9.

-Dave Q.

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Today's Deep Thought

  • I think a good novel would be where a bunch of men on a ship are looking for a whale. They look and look, but you know what? They never find him. And you know why they never find him? It doesn't say. The book leaves it up to you, the reader, to decide. Then, at the very end, there's a page that you can lick and it tastes like Kool-Aid.