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)
What are our Orders?!?!

Shook-Down, Holy-ed Up, Baffled and Bewildered

with Slam Dixon & Diaphanous Baum, Reporters and Announcers in the Field

Game One

Mississippi Shakedown (21) v Urban Plantain Workers Party (1)

What better way to celebrate the birth of our great nation than a good ol’ fashioned ass-kicking, Mississippi-style. And who better to get kicked than the Godless Reds. That was the feeling on Stan Luchka Field through Game One this week. Despite their new banner and bright crimson uniforms, the comrades of the Urban Plantain Workers Party were easy work for the Thurgood clan. Still pumped after the moonshine and Americka-fest, the surly sons of the south streamed onto Dexter Training ground drunk, happy, wafting yesterday’s deep-fried turkey, and ready to show those commies what freedom smells like. The late game hostage snatching of Jo-Leen by the UPWP may have threatened the reproductive viability (and possibly that night’s dinner) for the Shakedown, but it didn’t stop them from gittin’ ’er done the American way. Can any of member of the Mississippi Shakedown count to three? Who knows. But they sure-as-shit can kick to 21.

Game Two

Holy Rollers (2) v Scurvy Dogs (0)

The Eagles’ Next was pumped for this face-off between Freedom Division’s undefeated titans: Holy Rollers vs Scurvy Dogs. Would sin or salvation seize the day? Our usual exuberance for the defenders of the faithless was shaken early, as the dilettante pirates waited out the light afternoon drizzle under umbrellas. One of them pink. The righteous Rollers, on the other hand, saw the rain as a sign of divine annointment and played the game as if it’s outcome would ensure their entrance to Heaven through the front door. It was a one-two punch in the first inning, the Holy Rollers scoring a run for each Scurvy cheek that turned. And Judas, betraying of the very laws of physics, executed a game-winning out that came very close to redeeming him to all mankind. The Dogs, soggy and sea-sick, failed to turn the tide through five, and Lo! were cast from Christian shores on a one-way voyage to 3-and-1.

Game Three

Cunning Baffling Powerful (2) v Curse of the Zomboree (1)

It was the Undefeated versus the Undead in game three, pitting the preternaturally competent CBP against the flesh-thirsty Zombies. The Curse were ready to feast upon the untainted brains of the former champions, but the CBP team was craving the sweeter meat of victory. The legs were cut out from under the Zombies when their foes scored two in early innings, but the undead moaned and flailed and managed one run of their own before being forced back to their graves. As we’ve seen for generations of kickball, defeat had dawned once again for the foes of CBP. Our beloved Zombies were exiled from Stan Luchka field, driven back to their more familiar shopping malls and abandoned underground military bunkers. Try not to shed a tear, kickball fans. (Seriously, don’t… they can, like, smell human tears from a half-mile away.)

1650 HOURS – TRANSMISSION: DEXTER TRAINING GROUND
OPERATION ARMADILLO

BSRmadillos (8) v Bat Seals (10)

It’s ten minutes til the last game and a stunned, doe-eyed Rmadillo makes his way to the Eagle’s Nest… “Sirs, I can’t find my Battalion. My Battalion isn’t here! Please, sirs, give us until 1700 hours – they’re on their way, I swear to God, they’re on their way!” Confusion sets in… Bats Seals leave their dugout and – OH MY GOD! THERE ARE EXPLOSIONS ON THE FIELD!! Dexter Theatre to base, over… Dexter to base, do you read me?… Who’s in charge here? I said, WHO’S IN CHARGE HERE!?! COMMUNICATIONS ARE DOWN! Lieutenant-General Reader beats his way through the chaos – “Get those goddamn reinforcements on the field – THIS IS KICKBALL!! PLAY THIS FUCKING GAME!!” … SWEET MOTHER OF GOD, IT’S THE REAL DEAL OUT HERE ––– THIS IS THE REAL FUCKING GAME ––– I CAN’T SEE THROUGH THE SMOKE –– MORE EXPLOSIONS –– WHERE’S THE GODDAMNED CAPTAIN? – WHAT THE… ––– SHIT!! ––– BAT SEALS DEPLOYED!! – I REPEAT: BAT SEALS ON THE FIELD!! –– FALL BACK! –– THERE’S TOO MUCH YELLING –– TOO MUCH CONFUSION ––– WHAT THE HELL ARE OUR ORDERS !?!? ––– IT’S 1730 HOURS … A WOMAN NEXT TO ME JUST KEEPS MOANING, “CHUCKEE– CHEEEEESES…… CHUCKEE CHEEEEESES……” –– OH, THE HORROR! WAIT – MAN DOWN! –– REPEAT: MAN DOWN! –– OH GOD ––– PLAYERS ARE RUNNING EVERYWHERE ––– WHAT THE FUCK ARE OUR ORDERS!?!? –– SHIT –– I’M HIT –– I’M HIT ––– MEDIC!!! …… [end transmission]……

Providence Kickball Kommission