team win not
Cunning, Baffling, Powerful
[2005 Champs]
6 0
Mississippi Shakedown 5 (+1) 1
St. Sebastian’s Home for the Eldery & Convalescent 4 2 (-1)
Curse of the Zomboree 2 4
UntouchiballicA 2 4
Urban Plantain Workers Party 2 4
Stilettos 0 6
(Parens. indicate Wildcard status)
team win not
Holy Rollers
[2007 Champs]
6 0
Team U.G.G.H. 4 (+1) 2
Scurvy Dogs 5 1 (-1)
Ze French Revenge 2 4
Providence Burnsiders 2 4
BSRmadillos 1 5
Bat Seals 1 5
(Parens. indicate Wildcard status)
True to form, security guards are pricks

Fat-bottomed girls you make
the rockin’ world go ’round...

François Poútin, Roving Reporter in the Field
(not affiliated with the French Perspective)

Good morning, eh? Didja sleep well? Ah, quite an evening and afternoon, eh? Many drinks, many drinks. I love a good day of kickball, me.

I remember the morning... bright, sunny, not too hot. I started out the day with a nice Molson and a stack of pancakes. Mmmm... perfect vehicle for some of that up-North Canadian Maple syrup. I saluted the flag of Quebec, spat on a photo of the Queen, and was on my way to the field.

Game One pitted my former-brethren against a crop of General Burnside fans... Since France ignores the Canadians like some brother-from-a-different-mother, and since New Englanders might as well be Quebeçois, my bucks were on the side burn people. Still, the Revenge had a strong showing in Week 1. So I was watching closely. It was like watching the Canadiens play the Bruins... who was I to root for?

The game was close... a tall skinny Burnsider made some great catches, and the Revenge’s kicks seemed to be a bit off, not to mention a few in-field blunders. Were they stuck with nothing but an Australian vintage to whet their palette? Or worse, Californian, eh? In the last inning, at the last moment, I believe that someone, somewhere, spread foie gras on Wonder bread, and the Revenge collectively gasped just long enough for a Troop of the General to put a well placed kick into mid-left field, bringing a runner home, or something like that.

By Game Two my Molson had run dry, my wool hat was getting itchy, and so I decided to try this brew by the name of ’Gansett. Not bad, eh? For an American beer... I started to see people who looked to be my real brethren strong-looking types with lots of plaid on. But they spoke funny, eh? I wasn’t sure what to do. I decided to get me some fries with gravy before the game started up.

I had a delicious cheese-curded tater up to my lips when all the sudden a vicious roar went up from right field... oh my god, Zombies! I knew all this American industrial waste was going to finally catch up to us! I went out to my truck to get my gun, my gun liscense and my national health care card. Blood was everyone... the Flannel fellas were roping some Zombies, the Zombies were biting down into in-bred flesh... gore, screams, diapers, hair-products and annihilation. Between me and the plaid people, we managed to beat them back to Willow street. Hopefully, they will stay back there until the Finnish send a heliocopter.

When Game Three finally rolled around, we needed some entertainment... something to take our minds off of the carnage of the previous “game”. Lucky for us, some eye candy was on the field in no time. And kiddie pools. And syphilis. Since I already had my shots for SARS, HPV and Herpes, I wasn’t scared (thank you CHA). By now, I was ready for another two-four, and may the Virgin bless Carlos for bringing in another few. I was ready to sit back and enjoy the view.

A bunch of long-haired hippie-types didn’t seem to understand what this game was all about. I think they might have been a team that the girlies were playing, I’m not sure there was even a game going on. What we needed was some exhibition, you know, like a game before the regular season starts? Like when The Leafs play the Canucks, eh? It’s just good clean fun. Except this was more like dirty fun, the kind you get across the border in Detroit.

Game Four was gonna prove to be a real hum-dinger, so I made sure I had a good spot to watch. A bunch of people in funny head-gears made their way onto the field... some had face paint, some had funny hats, some looked like Satan and others looked like Beezlebub. At times it looked like a gay pride parade in downtown. One guy dressed in white looked familiar, but I couldn’t hear a word he was saying. The announcer man was going crazy... he had more tongue than a mountie’s boot. Balls were flying all over the field. Ahh, but the puck wasn’t going the Bat Seals’ way... when the dust settled, the Holies has won it. Good for them, eh?

Well, that was it for this Canuck. We took a moment to clean up the trash on the ground (Canadians like their City clean, eh?) and headed over to the bar for burgers and brews. Next weekend, if anyone wants to come over to my campsite with a mickey and a two-four, I’ll be there with my buddies making a list of Canadian actors who have infiltrated your silver screen.

Bon soir,
Frank

Providence Kickball Kommission