This Week in Milford

November 19, 2020

No, Rosey, Winning At Milford Is Like Brushing Your Teeth.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 12:50 pm

Whoa, Nelly. Nothing like a juvenile Roosevelt Grier to come in and do what he should have done at the BEGINNING of the plot, not after Gil belatedly rung out Frick and Frack for not being team players/getting distracted by a girl who’s not a team human being. Good call, Thorpiverse. This is like General Philip Sheridan (“…only good Indian is a dead…”) sending in reinforcements a day after Little Big Horn. Gee, Rosey, you were in the group doing all the calisthenics. You didn’t notice the sniping? Oh, you were at the water cooler from heat exhaustion, I understand. Otherwise, you would have used your helmet, to paraphrase Ernest P. Worrall in “Ernest Goes To Camp”, to jack a few jaws and pass out some knuckle sandwiches. No catering trucks needed (we hope-Jay’s Tas-Tee Knuckle De-Lites??-my my) . Luhm will sweep up the loose teeth later on. Right now, you’re just trying to send a message.

And why are we still lingering on this “No ‘I’ in ‘Team'” concept? You’d think that after Gil gave a stern lecture that could be heard from his office to the Mediterranean Sea that they would have learned and we were waiting with bated breath for that lesson to be applied in the Jefferson game. But like Pete Townshend sung, Stardom in Milford, that’s all they got. And oodles of rain.

Okay, so maybe the NEXT game, they’ll start heading in the same direction. Because the only time that really happened in the Jefferson game was on the bus ride home. And they STILL weren’t talking to each other. But they weren’t really doing that BEFORE the game. Hello. Gil’s tirade was just a weatherman’s forecast of 80% chance of showers? The weatherman getting it right was little consolation. And so was a plot misdirection. Next time, Thorpiverse, don’t wait for the game AFTER the game with the awaited Real World Model to make your point. Goofus and Gallant would never wait until the NEXT issue to preach that good manners and walking old ladies like Dr. Pearl or her ancestors across the street and holding the door for women at The Bucket or not telling Mimi there’s a fly in the Country Tyme Lemonade is essential for a starting position at quarterback and getting caterers like Jay’s Subs or Nick’s Pizza to cater the rain-soaked contest with Jefferson.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Jay’s Subs Delivery Driver for delivering these 128, 564 subs to this game. That monsoon must have been terrible. Would a $3000 tip cover it?”

“Nahhhhh, I work for peanuts and the good of mankind. When I see those kids chowing down in a downpour, it hits me right here. Working for Coach Thorp gives me warm fuzzies. Just send the money to the Valley Alternative Used Book Fund.”

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Dr. Pearl To Appoint Sergeant Schultz As Head School Patrolman At School Board Meeting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Expertise in handling of POW’s cited, particularly in addressing issues in school parking lot.”

And here we go again with stupidity shot at us from another angle. Like I’m going to go to Coach Thorp and say “Coach, put me back in. I want to run up the score and 56-3 isn’t good enough for me. We can make it 80 before time expires. We’re wearing them out.”

Like Coach Thorp is going to respond “Sure. You left too many damn points on the table anyway. I told you to eat your vegetables and do extra push-ups. If you’d done them upside-down, the score EASILY would have been 70-3.”

Trust in Christ because Gil don’t sponsor no flops.

Larry Bird played for Springs Valley High School, essentially a consolidation of his hometown, French Lick (as in “Hick from…”) and West Baden Springs, right down the street from French Lick, and his teams were decent and beat up on a lot of the Southern Indiana schools in the area but found the Bloomington schools and the pesky ones like Jasper and Loogootee to be the bugbear, as those schools were with ANY of the other schools, especially at Sectionals and Regionals and beyond. But one of the reasons why he was a top player was his coach had him convinced that if he was practicing 100 free throws, the superstar at Paoli High School or Crawford County High School was practicing 101 FREE THROWS. 500 jump shots? Dude down the pipe at Bedford or Vincennes was practicing 501 JUMP SHOTS.

“Great throw, Rapp. You upped the score to 71-3. I knew you had it in you.”

Coach Thorp butts in

“Yeah? Well there’s somebody shooting lay-ups on the courts of French Lick who would have blocked the field goal. You need to practice penetrating the defense 501 TIMES!!!!!!!!!! And hitting the tire with your throws 502 TIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

You think the moral of this story, judging by P1, is you can never be too far ahead of your competition?

Hi Crystal. This is how familiar I am with Jeff Smith Marathon in Edwardsville, Indiana. With COVID-19, they are STILL busy. Keep moving those cars in and out. And people were coming in and out for gas too. And they have excellent gas at great prices. Then come down the hill to Mike Smith Firestone in New Albany, Indiana. They were also busy despite the pandemic. Their parking lot was full of automobiles. Looks like job security to me. Folks, if you’re in the neighborhood, come on down and get treated right like these two businesses have treated me and my dad. You won’t be sorry.

Support Small Business. You need to go where everybody knows your name. They know mine.

Rosey, you’re missing the point and I’m not talking about the ones Rapp or Thayer should have scored if they didn’t have their heads lodged up their butts from all the rain.

Rapp never said he was bitching about his PT. He was complaining that the score could have been higher. And that could have been Thorp imposing another tight leash on things, particularly Rapp, who was loose in his interpretation of the playbook. In other words, Rapp could have had beaucoup playing time (we’ll never know, T-verse is into soap operas, not statistics) but all he did was just gift-wrap the football to Charlie Roh or Chance Macy and any deviation from that plan as going to be severly punished. Flutie Miracles was going to earn running steps up and down the station until the break of dawn.

Now, Rosey, as long as you’re going to get your jock strap stuck up your hind end over questionable motives, I’ll concede that PT is an issue. And Rapp was complaining about that, no doubt. But really, the overriding gripe was Gil’s wrenching Rapp’s game into a vise grip so that the quarterback was the Salvation Army passing out toys to kids at Christmas.

What do you WANT Rapp to say?

“This game went longer than Hall & Oates ‘I Can’t Go For That’ but Coach Thorp knew what he was doing. This time he bought a notebook at the bookstore so that he could carefully calibrate everybody’s playing time. I know I got my share. Hey, Rosey, as Groucho Marx once said, ‘From each according to his ability to each according to his need’. I’m glad he didn’t pad the game against these scrubs. The other coach put in his junior varsity? Classy of Coach Thorp to keep the score within 50. The freshman game ought to be a cinch. He’s got my early vote for Valley Coach of the Year.”

GODDAMIT PUT ME IN COACH I’M READY TO PLAY

The John Fogerty rocker may be a bit loud, sorry to say.

Satisfied, Rosey?

If ya got 1000 dead squirrels in the back of yore pickup and ya got the cab cover on ’em so that rain don’t spoil the meat when ya skin ’em cuz yore daddy said told ya when ya wuz 11 years old that yore spelling bee buddy wuz out in the woods treein’ with the bloodhounds and sub-se-cuent-lee killin’ 1001 squirrels behind yore garage, ya might be a redneck.

“And remember, Gil, there’s another coach in the Valley Conference who’s working on getting it on the green 10,001 times.”

“Shut up, Kaz, and let me putt.”

And to continue this confrontation that’s more stink than poop between Rosey and Rapp

“….playing time?”

“Not really. If I was, I wouldn’t be taking ‘The Gospel According to Gil’ that the Gideons pass out at the stadium entrance. I am complaining about your breath. Did you have some Wheaties with Nutra-Sweet before kickoff? And do you need for me to spray D-Con on your face?”

At least the fans look like people in the background. I was worried that the Zombies had infiltrated the stadium again. T-Verse must have heard the complaints. Who wants to go through the turnstiles with a buzzed-out butthole determined to eat you alive? That IS running up the score when your team is losing or about to lose. We have enough on our minds. T-verse must have called for extra security.

At the State Department of Public Instruction, in the Commissioner’s Office

“And remember, Dr. Pearl, there’s always somebody filing 10,001 reports before the deadline…”

Is P3 going to start ANOTHER PLOT???? I was half-joking the other day on my other post but looks like T-verse is serious about continuing the travesty. We missed the part where Rapp and Thayer kiss and make up and prove to be a two-headed monster against Jefferson. That would have been a nice way to round out a runaway plot, Godzilla and his Siamese twin scaring the Jefferson players off the gridiron and Milford winning by forfeit. The fake scenery as in the movies where you can see all the plywood that comprise the Empire State Building or Mudlark Stadium still might have been dicey but the important thing is that Rapp and Thayer lived happily ever after and we could use the hook on Peppermint Potty and get her off stage and sweep the rest of her baggage and that particular plot thereof under the shag carpeting.

But it was not to be. Now it’s Rosey’s and Thayer’s turn to argue and cuss and body-slam each other over how the team should be run even if you realistically have coaches (supposedly) foot the bill on that one. But in Milford, why let truth get in the way of bad plot development?

“He’s a selfish bastard who only thinks of padding his stats and throwing chair patterns when 10 guys are covering his receiver because he has a flair for the dramatic even if the game’s on the line and it’s 1st-and-goal on the 1-yard-line and a simple plunge in the end zone will win the game. What about it?”

“Your mother wears army boots when she’s plunging in the end zone!!!!!!!!!!!”

Lord, please, I beg of you, don’t let this carry past Thanksgiving. In Jesus’ Name.

“And remember Mimi, somebody out there is grilling 10,001 London broil steaks. And mixing 10,001 gallons of Country Tyme Lemonade. Can’t let The Naked Chef beat you.”

I was not going to say ANYTHING about the trees. I was going to be nice for once.

NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We used to observe those globules on a slide when we put it under a microscope. Then took notes of it and turned it in as part of our lab assignments. Man, the paramecium is spreading all over the Shiny Happy People sky. That or one side of the herbiage or mismanaged forestry project received a hefty helping of Miracle-Gro. At the rate it’s going, some satellite may crash into it and cause an ugly mess on the field. And we’re already dealing with one between Thayer and Rosey. Many cuss words and finger-pointing but no damaged satellites near the concession stand. Just hope to God Challenger isn’t flying anywhere near the overnourished horticulture. Talk about seeing the forest from the trees. I think the forest swallowed the trees. It shows.

“And Grier and Thayer are at each other’s throats. Geez Louise, you’d think the team lost. Well, under a Coach T. team, you never know what could happen. Reasonable adults are there to separate the two. And we’ll back after sanity is restored. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

In French Lick, at the basketball courts off Larry Bird Boulevard, Mrs. Shaw pulling off Indiana 56

“Honeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I’m horrrrnnnnnyyyyyyy. And what are you doing shooting lay-ups?”

“Quit bothering me, Mrs. Shaw. I’m working to get to the top of my game. You play the way you practice. If you lollygag on these bunnies, you might as well throw it in Patoka Lake down the road because you won’t be prepared to make the easy 2 when the opening tip meets opportunity.”

“Honey, I had a different idea of laying up. And the West Baden Hotel is a wonderful place. I have a reservation with a bed that’s comfy enough for the both of us.”

“No way!!!!!!!!!!!! Gil always told me that if I’m going to take Milford Parks & Recreation Men’s Industrial League Basketball seriously, that somebody, once he clocks out on second shift at Milford Foundry is coming here to French Lick and practicing 10,001 lay-ups. I’ve already done 1,745 of them. I might need to break and go down to Huck’s to get a Slushee and Subway for a $5 Footlong for dinner but I’m in this for the long haul.”

“Darling, put the basketball down and come wid your widdle bunny wabbit and have some fun.”

“Mrs. Shaw, you don’t get it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Those lay-ups plus those 10,001 staggered wind sprints will not only help me beat that team of losers at Milford Foundry by at least 20 points, I’ll be more solid than the asphalt I’m practicing on. I already can run faster than those buggys the Amish drive around here.”

“I bet the horses have more fun than we do. And the Amish too, for that matter.”

“Look, I read an article where things like rebounding off the backboard 10,001 times enhances male performance. I’ll not only outrebound anybody that the Rec League throws at me but I’ll be Tarzan of the West Baden Hotel.”

“Jane would love to see you there.”

“Oh, I will. But you can’t just turn on and off male performance like a water faucet. That’s why I’m practicing 10,001 free throws. I’ll be hornier than the coyotes in Hoosier National Forest after hitting nothing but nylon. And don’t even think of taking me on in H-O-R-S-E. I’ll go Mr. Ed on you while reaching climax.”

“I bet Mr. Ed goes to bed with his honey before you beat Larry Bird in H-O-R-S-E.”

“She had me there. And my feet were getting sore from getting up on the asphalt from all those suicide drills. It was time to ‘fess up on my problem and hit Milford Men’s Clinic. With proven treatment programs that work, West Baden Springs Hotel was a welcome sight to put my masculinity to the test. I did better in bed than at the 3-point line. My percentages were better anyway. Come solve your own double dribble problems and get out of the 3-second lane before the refs cry foul. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

Rosey ought to mind his own damn business. But you tell him. I don’t have the guts.

God bless you, Gang.

Mike Knappe calling Domino’s Pizza

“That’s right, it will be this Sunday at Milford Softball Complex Diamond #1… Of course, the tournament is still on…No, I only want 4,000 pepperoni pizzas…No. No!!!!!!! No Lowenbrau!!!!!!!! High School Athletic Rules prohibit alcohol consumption…Sure, we’ll take all the Breath-Mints you can stuff in the garbage bag…Got it? Cool…Thank you, we’ll be waiting, and remember, Nick’s Pizza is assembling 10,001 Turkey Stroms even as we speak, so get a move on…”

“Colonel Jessup, did you order Coach Thorp to carry out the Code Red????”

YOU’RE GODDAM RIGHT I DID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Which player? There were three of them.”

8 Comments »

  1. Boy-o-boy…is Gil gonna be pissed when he sees these two goin’ at it ,,oh!…wait!….Gil probably isn’t there, however, he did ask them a few days ago “…what are you going to do about it?…” …well, coach jag-bag, THIS is what they are gonna’ do about it, when you handle it like a school crossing guard would. The person who really deserves the blame for this entire plot, however, is that douche, ‘The Mayor’ because without his stupid butter knife incident, peppermint patty wouldn’t even be in Milford, and dumb and dumber wouldn’t be fighting over her causing additional team rifts

    Comment by franku2016 — November 19, 2020 @ 1:39 pm

  2. Who can take a rainbow?
    Wrap it in a sigh
    Soak it in the sun and make a groovy lemon pie

    That’s some pretty sappy shit. I can’t shoehorn a rhyme like that into a song like Sammy Davis but here’s a song parody of The Candy Man. It’s called The Candy Ass. Of course referring to the Team Jackass, Gil Thorp. The kids jilted at the putting green by Gil when he glad hands the has beens will be backing vocals. Special appearance by the sorority girls stranded at the Dexter Lake Club in Animal House.
    Here goes: CANDY ASS! HEY CANDY AAAASSSS!
    Alright everybody, run a lap!
    The candy ass is here
    What kind of sport do you wanna play?
    Football,basketball, baseball, golf?
    Well, you’ve come to the wrong man
    Cuz, I’m the candy Ass! (Cue the sorority girls)
    EEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

    Who can take a quarterback?
    (Who can take a quarterback?)
    Sit him on the bench
    (Sit him on the bench)
    Lose the fucking game and chalk it up to discipline
    The candy Ass
    (The candy Ass)
    Oh, the candy Ass can
    (The candy ass can)
    The candy Ass can cuz he has no fucking clue and drinks rotgut till he pukes
    (Drinks rotgut till he puuuukes!)
    Who can take 2 children
    (Who can take 2 children)
    Make them disappear
    (Make them disappear)
    No need for alibis cuz the Tank Town doesn’t care
    The candy Ass
    (The candy Ass)
    The candy Ass can
    (The candy Ass can)
    The candy Ass can cuz he has no fucking clue and drinks rotgut till he pukes
    (Drinks rotgut till he pukes)
    The candy Ass ruins, every kid he coaches
    Self centered and underachieving
    Now, talk about your childhood dreams
    You can flush them down the drain
    No! No! No! Who can steal a paycheck?
    (Who can steal a paycheck?)
    For 60 fucking years
    (For 60 fucking years)
    Kaz can do better and he only volunteers!
    The candy ass
    (The candy Ass)
    The candy Ass can cuz he has no fucking clue and drinks rotgut till he pukes
    (Drinks rotgut till he pukes)
    A CANDY ASS! A CANDY ASS! A CANDY ASS!
    GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY!!!!!

    Comment by Jive Turkey — November 19, 2020 @ 2:11 pm

  3. Jive Turkey, I normally wait until the end before I comment in the Comment Section but you forced me to make an exception.

    I just LAUGHED MY ASS OFF AT YOUR SONG. You sure you don’t want my job(ha)? I was spilling my coffee while trying to contain myself. My Man, if you have any more up your sleeve, PLEASE PRINT THEM!!!!!!! The door is still open for business.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — November 19, 2020 @ 2:45 pm

  4. Thanks tdrew. That idea has been brewing for a while. Just haven’t had time to put the thoughts together. I had fun with that. Wasn’t the chore I thought it would be. The insights of all Twiimmers over the past 6 years or so helped me compose that. And a particular sappy song I remember from childhood.

    Comment by Jive Turkey — November 19, 2020 @ 3:45 pm

  5. 1. It’s “THE FINAL MINUTE” but there’s only three players on the sideline and nobody in the stands?

    2. Way to stick up for your girlfriend, #70 whose name I can’t recall…

    3. What the fuck does #75 (whose name I can’t recall) care about whatever bullshit Rapson is spewing? Last I checked, starters don’t pay much attention to the random comments of second-stringers? You just worry about your own game?

    4. So an honest-to-god fight is about to break out on the sideline during a game and Gilberto and Kazuo are naturally nowhere in sight…

    5. Well done on that whole “showing leadership and maturity” thing, Gilberto… Your famous “Inaction, Indifference and Ineptitude” coaching philosophy has dumped liquid butane on a raging fire…

    6. If Peppermint Patty really was some kind of anti-authority punk rocker anarchist rebel badassed juvenile delinquent from the wrong side of the tracks, she would be very proud of the absolute chaos she has indirectly brought to white bread suburbia and Mudlarks Football…

    7. So where is everybody sitting at the next volleyball game? Or did Rapson and Macy finally lose interest in the Bitch Princess?

    7a. It’s just as well since this entire season has been overflowing with latent homoeroticism from Rapson and Macy both asking Eldrick out on a “date” to #70 being surprisingly over-protective of his best bro and teammate… And when I say “over-protective” I mean in an “Hardened inmates at Statesville Prison” kind of way…

    Comment by hitorque — November 19, 2020 @ 4:04 pm

  6. Why hasn’t Oaf # 70 been identified? He’s been on the edge of the “story” for weeks, chipping at the status quo, but nobody knows who he is? I credit H Rap Rapson, who increasingly looks like a master of the game the psychologist Erich Berne called “Let’s You and Him Fight.”

    Comment by vaganova — November 21, 2020 @ 3:50 pm

  7. Another excellent discussion, Gang. You really lit this one up. And it’s clear there’s a lot of emotion in your voices but you all hammer out well-thought-out and well-argued points. Great job.

    Jive Turkey again gets the call for one of the funniest posts I’ve encountered. You have to admit that it is clever and just body-slams the plot to the turf. I still laugh from time to time.

    God bless you all. You made Democracy come alive.

    Comment by tdrewhardin — November 22, 2020 @ 2:14 pm

  8. “A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou besides me, Rosie!” — Sam the Plumber from Brady Bunch

    “Smooth talker!” – Nancy Walker as Rosie the ‘quicker picker upper’ waitress

    Comment by Moon Mullins — November 23, 2020 @ 1:44 pm


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