If you came to read today’s strip expecting Barry Bader to already be catching crap about his dad’s DUI, you’ll be disappointed. (I know I was.) Guess that news hasn’t traveled as fast as the news of Kenzie Hanley’s jaw-breaking incident at the Winter Blast. All in good time, I’m sure.
We do at least get the beginnings of the Mouseketeer Roll Call with the returning Mike Granger playing Schroeder to pitcher Lalonde’s Charlie Brown. If this is the same Lalonde from last season, he’s a converted outfielder. There’s a Kaz sighting as a base ump, but that’s about the size of it. As a fan of baseball history I’ve been used to seeing “pint-sized” as an adjective describing 1950’s outfielder Ernie Oravetz; given that Master Bader is a second baseman, however, I expect there’ll be a José Altuve name drop somewhere along the line. Being an aggressive baserunner doesn’t necessarily make one a psycho, and telegraphing it to everyone within earshot isn’t really qualifying material either. No, I’d be on the lookout for more Piersallesque behavior before I slapped that tag on him.
It looks like we’re going to get the full story of Del the industrial solvent salesman. Pacing of the baseball season be damned!
When last we saw Del, he was saying his goodbyes to Joe, the friendly bartender at Verne’s. Now he has climbed into a generic, midsize sedan and it looks like he’s swerving his way home to Milford. Did he stop at that Bauhaus inspired BURGER joint to try and sop up a few of those Tito’s & sodas? Not sure. Maybe he slammed on the brakes when he realized he had passed a BURPEE SEEDS OUTLET. He has nonetheless attracted the attention of the law, so let’s look forward to scenes from his field sobriety test and subsequent booking into the Central City lock-up.
It just dawned on me that maybe Whigham told Rubin he was sick of drawing kids playing sports and maybe they could focus on some other stuff for a while. Maybe more dashboards and those little guns that bartenders use to shoot out the carbonated mixers? Sure, Rodd, but we have to occasionally draw the kids doing stuff. You can keep doing the chunky bracelets.
And so we drop into the Bader place, where Barry, player of a scrappy second fills Mother Bader in on practice.
Great. Again. I nailed it, Mom. With my scrappiness and Pete De Windt’s grace…yes, Mom, the Pete De Windt that played tight end, we discussed this…I don’t think there’s anything that will stop us! Games? I don’t know when we start playing games this year. Coach Thorp has been rather evasive about our schedule. I’ll let you know when I know.
Heh heh…scrappy seconds.
So the girl who didn’t know how to play basketball in December has quickly turned into the star who
leads the team to playdown victory puts her team ahead late. Kenzie shrugs off Alfrieda E. Neuman’s flying elbow in front of Mimi and Rick Scott, who absentmindedly cops a feel (“yo Mr. Scott, that’s not where she hit me!”).
Off to the line where Kenzie then pays tribute to her ex Maxwell Bacon by
making love to the ball before continuing to shoot free throws underhanded. Has she put the Lady Mudlarks ahead for keeps? Time will tell…
Fat Chance? Oops, wrong guy… Maybe we’ll get more commentary in the comments section because, for now, I’m treating this blog like it’s the Central City Courier.
Panel three – for the win.
The Winter Blast in Central City is known for nothing if not its signature Hot Cider served in collectable, stackable cups! Buy a half dozen for your party, stack em’ up and zipline past the main stage where Snowplow Jones & The Black Ice are playing…
Oops, forgot about the Central City Cretins! They hate stackable cups and anybody who stacks ’em. This place needs a hero. Where is Herk The Mauler when we need him to clean house?
“Hey, fellas? Game over here.” – Central’s illegal #7’s thought balloon, if he had one
Time’s really flying in the Thorpiverse now, as the last eight strips have covered almost three weeks. I’m gonna assume the “almost two weeks” refers to time elapsed since the Milford Star ran the Kenzie article, not to some unspoken pregnancy scare.
Well, let’s get these seasons over with. Ball and stick games wait for no one.
Musical inspiration for today: one of my favorite songs of all time, which I can’t be brought to parody (and besides I did the “Old Man Kensey” riff already this season). FF to 1:20 if you don’t speak Dutch.
Time flies in this strip when Rubin wants it to. Marcie was a good head shorter than Kenzie
a week ago yesterday and now she’s almost the same height sitting down? Long torso, short legs I guess, or else she’s taking the same meds Maxwell Bacon takes to shape-shift when he’s around Kenzie.
Speaking of Bacon: is Kenzie having the little eyeball explosion because she’s gonna have to admit that her boyfriend suggested the underhand free throws? Maybe there’s a USA Rugby prohibition against dating or something. Or is it that she’s nervous about exposing the fact that Mimi Thorp hasn’t coached her a bit this season beyond showing her YouTube clips? If that’s the case, no big deal: Everyone in Milford already knows the Thorps get others to do their coaching for free.