WEEK SIX (cont'd) division, and holder of the angriest man in kickball, not to mention JHo and JJ. The game started and it was already a little ugly. The outfield was as busy as a Sparks salesman at an AA meeting. Early in the first inning, the undead centerfielder made a spectacular jump and dive for a long kick to center/left and rolled across the ground. If her bones were not the architecture of the non-living, one would have thought she surely cracked one. Never feeling pain, at least not right away, the determined zombie got up and played another few rounds. Before the end of the inning, however, she crumpled in the field like someone who go hit in the back of the head with a shovel. Even though she was technically already dead, concern rose up out of the grandstands. A hush fell over the crowd, and the distant ambulance siren grew louder. The medics arrived on the scene and had a hard time figuring out who was injured, as there was so much |
and severed body parts on the field. After a few false starts, they found the injured player and determined that she in fact not undead, but actually on a short leave from her day job as a tennis instructor. How she got roped into playing for such a nasty bunch of mouth breathers I'll never understand. She got taken off the field and the trauma of the game ensued, and word came down from on high later that she indeed broke her collarbone. This intrepid reporter had to roam the halls of RI Hospital with a face-mask (you can never be too careful) and a cop's uniform (don't ask) to find out her identity. Cecily Debusker, kickball champion extraordinaire, this 'Gansett is for your valiant efforts, though as Zomboree lost miserably, they were only for the love of the game. WEEK SEVEN Finally... I see light again. Mine eyes have been blinded by the glory that was mud, 'Gansett, skimpy stilettos and the vibrant polyester of Magic Pants. Cross-dressing gardener leprechauns have been dancing on my hippocampus, and a dark collection of beefy - but stylish - men have been poking at it with bayonets. What's a reporter to do but hunker down, shield his eyes, slather on the sunscreen and go to work investigating one of the PKL's longest days... the Mid Season Spectacular, or, as someone else coined it, Spank-tacular. Because that's what it turned out to be: a spank fest. Also, a groping, sexy sweaty mud fest. A feast for the eyes... a train wreck, a jaw-dropping cornucopia of summer afternoon excess. More than one little boy became a man on that field, and thanks to the Stilettos' "Kiss or Diss" booth, more than one man walked away with VD. Pedro walked away $20 poorer and broken-hearted with a case of the blue balls. But I digress... |
The official word has yet to be made public, but most teams that day were humiliated in some form. The Road Warriors vs. the BSRmadillos; did anyone even watch this game? Their humiliation was that no one cared. Highlanders v. Return of the Zomboree; thanks guys, you made me one rich man. My bookie thought I was nuts when I placed a cool 10k on RotZ for the win. The odds were in my favor. Your display of bloody tartan and voodoo made it all worthwhile, though at times I was regretting my decision. Kings v. the Steamroller; ah, this is what happens when you crown yourself. A soul-crushing defeat is bound to come your way, and the Steelyard kids rolled over the Kings, flattening any crowns that lay in their path. Stilettos v. Gardeners; two of the most fun teams in the PKL finally square off, and it was worth every penny for the ticket. Cross dressing hippies with dirty feet, mud, fishnets, tattoos, push-up bras - and that was just the Gardeners. In true PKL theatre style, they gave the Stilettos a go and for a while you could barely tell the teams apart. Except that one of them was winning... but that's not the point. Its the spectacle, people, that's what we want to see! And Death Squad v. Green Bar; sorry guys, after the last game, most of us were trying to get rid of that damp feeling in our pants. I was barely paying attention. I know there were flags involved, and grease paint, and too small t-shirts. Someone won by a large margin. FRUNT PG 1 PG 2 PG 3 PG 4 PG 5 |
