This Week in Milford

October 5, 2017

Soto’s Escort Service

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Three days to finish one play, and the first game will be finished by the end of the first week of October. Something tells me at least three games will be told and not shown in a single strip in about a week or two. Rick Soto’s exploding head tips us to his imminent concussion, so while we’re waiting for that reveal let’s focus on the little details:

(1) Whigham’s shout-out to his mom via Milford’s and Oakwood’s glow-in-the-dark helmet decals, ’cause working it into a shirt collar like they did at Wendy’s just isn’t as dramatic.

(b) Again with the confusing numbers: Filllllllllion has been shown as #9 to date but the guy carrying the big croissant behind Soto is wearing a double-digit number. The Oakwood player Soto’s blocking is pretty big to be wearing #14, don’tchathink? Maybe he’s a former lineman who wants to be a ball carrier, too. Maybe he’s the son of The Battleship Lorenzen.

(iii) Marty’s scar face is particularly nightmare-inducing today. The dried hooch crust in his beard is a nice touch, as are the slats in the lid of his crate. At least he trims his nose hair.

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October 4, 2017

Open A Hole And/Or Go Over The Top!

Filed under: actual action, Exploding Eyeball Syndrome, football, Highlight reel — timbuys @ 10:14 am

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I infer from Nick’s acrobatics that, although Kevin tried to open a hole, he’s worn out from that carry for three yards and a cloud of dust and is no longer able to block effectively. Well done, Gil.

This, however, is immaterial as Nick is the real decoy. Indeed, it’s looking grim for Oakwood as, not only were they focused on the secret Pelwecki, now they are eyeball explodingly shocked by this additional dissimulation. Well done, Gil.

September 28, 2017

Tipped Off

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Nothing but action today as we get some blessed relief from wannabe agent-cum-hanger-on/wet blanket/harbinger of doom Uncle Gary.

When I see Oakwood’s big “O” on their helmets I’m reminded of the University of Oregon Ducks. Last season Oakwood had an interesting, unconventional helmet design going on so this registers as a downgrade. Then again, Oakwood may have a Phil Knight-like benefactor so that they can change uniforms every game if not every quarter. On the other hand Milford looks much the same as it has the past several seasons, with Whigham unable to draw a consistent block “M” without it looking a like a mimeographed ink blob. Not sure why they’re wearing white at home unless it’s a day game and Milford has become one of those hot-climate towns where the home team wears white to psych out their opponents.

Without knowing how Milford got its scores (another missed opportunity for name-dropping, Rubin!) we suddenly find them in a hole of their own making. Tipped pass or not, somehow the Oakwood defender got in front of the Milford intended receiver to make the exploding pick. Heather Burns should’ve been coaching that kid over the summer, too.

September 27, 2017

I Often Pause Dramatically During My Internal Monologue, Why Do You Ask?

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Panel 1: Number 28 looks stunned as the football caroms off his sternum.

Panel 2: I’m gonna ignore whatever these idiots have to say as the weirdo in the foreground brings to mind my having to lecture my four year old that, it’s OK if you do it in private, but when you’re around other people you have to use a tissue. Why? Because it’s considered rude and we try to be polite, that’s why.

Panel 3: Cue the dastardly reveal. Not just a lawyer, but a future agent lawyer! Oh no, that’s the worst kind!

Minus point: WTH? I guess we’re confirmed for no bonfire this year. Perhaps the Milford FD still has the summer burn ban in effect.

Bonus question: What elements of Rick’s so far indeterminate act* would be most directly impacted by a seemingly inevitable concussion?

* I know it involves Mac the Knife, but does he sing it? Play it on Caribbean steal drums? Personally, I’m betting he has trained seals bark out the tune.

July 13, 2017

There’s No Veering in Baseball!

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Well that whole journalism thing was awkward, wasn’t it?  Made me feel stupid for thinking there might be some point to it.  Let’s get back to what this strip does best: putting Milford’s girls in the orbit of Milford’s boys. After all, boys won’t watch girls play unless they’re interested in one of the players but girls will watch the boys play just because, amirite?

So to wrap the spring* plot up we’re gonna see if Ryan has indeed practiced his anger management after he gets another bad call from a crappy Valley ump and his teammates flub away a lead on him.  Marty’s mom has told him to take out the trash, so he quickly makes the Mudlarks a Fielding Three and rolls a 14 for the Tilden batter.  As with most Gil Thorp arcs, all of this would come off as a lot less contrived if the plot had been better paced. Then again, the phrase “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” is probably wasted on someone who holds track and field in such contempt.

*Feels funny calling it that in the middle of July, doesn’t it?

July 8, 2017

That’s “Dafne.” “Hello” is my kitty’s name.

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I will refrain from falling back on my go-to “Who saw that coming?” from Black Dynamite except to say, well, I saw that coming.

Now that that’s out of the way, hey, sports! Well, sorta. Not only did laissez-faire Mimi let Daffy back onto the field after that fiasco, she let her take infield. Some of the other Lady Mudlarks must have run off from practice after being distracted by something or other.

I notice Drafty has a soccer ball in her room. Maybe Heather Burns left it behind for her. Anyhoo, while we await a week of hand-waving at Milford losses and Dafonte’s print mea culpa, we can at least have fun speculating on what misogynistic fun and games await us for the next eight weeks thereafter.

 

July 6, 2017

The Hits Keep Coming

July 5, 2017

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July 6, 2017

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Shot Putter Jimmy Caruso better be glad that Milford ain’t old school Westview, else he’d be getting shot at for mouthing off at a hall monitor like that. How plausible is Jimmy’s defense, anyway? If we look at Tuesday’s strip we can see a dark object with a protruding right angle at Jimmy’s face height, but that angle is about level with his shoulders. Chekhov’s cabinet door…

…or Chekhov’s black eye?  Whichever, they fall into place for the logical conclusion of this arc. Braying Daftpunk, flashing her best Biting Pear of Salamanca leer, chooses her words carelessly. Anybody with an ear could draw the conclusion that she intended to hit Jimmy and, even if she didn’t, that she moved past him with such force that he fell into Chekhov’s cabinet door. And you know what? Anybody will. Daffy will soon find herself in Ryan Van Halen’s shoes, which will lead her begging to Ms. Rizk to be let back on to the Trumpet staff to defend herself and Ryan. Lessons learned, fade to silhouettes, walk through a doorway and we’ll see you on the Thorps’ back porch.

Think we’ll ever see any sports being played in this arc again? Maybe that Van Halen kid will play some chin music on some Central batters and cow them into being no-hit. Then he can get killed off like the last Milford pitcher who threw a no-hitter.

July 1, 2017

We hate to see you go but we love to watch you – oh, never mind

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Poor Carrie Hobson. First she gets shellacked by Jefferson in the first game of the post-Boo Radley era, then she gets soundly rejected by Hurdler Gary Meola. Another spring arc, another tearful exit for Carrie. What did she ever do to piss Rubin off?

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Dafne finds herself having to fend off Shot Putter Jimmy Caruso’s poorly aimed Vulcan nerve pinch. Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a bad touch.

Wishing our friends to the north a happy Canada Day on the 150th anniversary of your confederation. A bit of hardball nostalgia for you today as a lagniappe:

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