By Simon Vishnu, Field Reporter
PKL Adamstown Field Office
August 25th, 2007
Aldo Freda Field, Olneyville
When the midget handed me the poolside phone, I knew it would be trouble. He said it was my lawyer, the one I keep on retainer in Providence, Rhode Island. The contractions are speeding up now. The PKL is about to enter that horrific, shriek-a-thon known as "The Playoffs," and there is no epidural that is known to work on the pain of postseason. Six straight games of kickball on the balmiest of days could bring a good man to his knees. The weather was looking to be hotter than McDonald's coffee-in-the-crotch, and there was little chance they would make it through the day without casualties. I caught the first passing cargo line.
As soon as I made landfall at India Point, I noticed changes in the league. I don't mean to start off on a downer note, but I have something to say to the entire league. All of you. There are rules in this game, and they are there for your protection. Without rules, nothing would prevent MadDog from "accidental dismemberment" and possible death -- but I still say we need them. So, the rules: there are actually eight of them. The most important one is Number 5: "No crying in kickball." Legal jargon can be so confusing, let me help with a translation. That means: "NO CRYING IN KICKBALL." Nobody cares how emotional you get about the games. You wanna film a tear-jerker Bud Light ad down at the E&O? Tough shit. WAIT UNTIL TUESDAY.
Green BarBarians vs
Return of the Zomboree
zombee stalks halfing, news at elevensies
The Green BarBarians are working class heroes. They don't aspire to your hifallutin' somersaults like Chris Ackley. They don't have the Blue Blood's theater pedigree. What they got is Good People. What they got is Amicable. When was the last time you saw a Green BarBarian angry? (I asked you. I have "special" (worse) relations with most teams in the league.
So why are they so fucking chipper all the time? Let me tell you: the Green BarBarians have seen other pastures, and they understand the priceless pearl that is the Providence Kickball League. They've played in other leagues. Some of them actually commute here, from Boston, just to play kickball. With us.
In Boston, kickball is a douchey endeavor. The Somerville leagues are glutted with cross-eyed, thick-necked softball rejects and angry rules lawyers. They don't have this precious notion that we call "Kickball Theater." In Swansea Kickball, the refs are also freelance corrections officers. The PKL by contrast is refreshingly laid back. Our refs like to work from the supine position. Then there is Tucker, who's contribution to playcalling is an inovation that some would call "not looking at the play." (He goes by the sound...) And of head ump JP Reader, who has the heart of a rampant lion and wants only the best for this league, it must also be said: he is legally blind. No disrepeck, JP.
To the Green Bar, the PKL is an oasis of easygoing, and they are determined to not
fuck it up by trying too hard. And have they not "averaged" their way into our hearts? With any luck they could coast to a stop and cash out 2007 with a 2-4 record.
Nobody told them.
Hobbit-flesh is a Zombee delicacy. When it comes to the flesh of the living, Zombees prize above all else the delicate spinal cord, and of course the sweet sweet brain meats. But on Hobbits? Hobbits have soft places where your average Rhode Island milworker doesn't even have places. It's alll tender.
The Zomboree feasted, knowing that their fate was no longer in their own hands. Meanwhile the Green BarBarians were in for a harsh lesson in the dangers of middling expectations. They're packing their pitchers of Natty Ice, their zen-like lack of ambition, and their toilet kits for a very long journey: to the Cracks of Doom, aka, the Stilettos and the Festival of Losers. Good Luck, BarBarians! This is a game that no-one truly "wins."
Return of the Zomboree: 5
Green BarBarians: 4
Road Warriors v East Side Blue Bloods
if a tree doesn't bother to fall, does anybody care?
Fucking Blue Bloods. Tried to buy me off with a bottle they claimed was "champagne," but I cannot be purchased. I am absolutely
FRONT PG 2 PG 3 PG 4