Short Seasons Mean Less Coaching

“Winter is over.

We’re playing outside. Any-

thing is possible.”

 

Oh the irony

Of Gil’s haiku when we all

Must shelter in place

 

Meanwhile in Milford

Marjie Ducey waves her pen

Ready for roll call

 

But first a softball

Question for the Gilmeister:

Best opening day?

 

Football means the most

To Gil; it gives him more time

To play Mary Worth

 

Then a reminder:

Sometimes it snows in April

Yeah, we miss Prince too

 

Smack My Snitch Up

Sorry to be so late on today’s post. We may all be confined to quarters but our work hasn’t stopped.

Rubin’s poor clock management has pushed him further into the no-huddle offense. We jump from Gil giving Dr. Pearl her marching orders out of the star chamber to the results of those orders: Teddy on lockdown at Casa DeMarco. Chris may not be there to beat up on Teddy, but Hiawatha, Marcel and Tom hiding behind the door there might be a bit more willing.

At least we finally get hints as to what bug Teddy’s had up his ass about Chris. It’s been six years shorter than the one Alexa had for Chris, so unlikely it had anything to do with Jeopardy! Did Chris pass over Teddy when picking sides for flag football in PE class? Make fun of his hair? Or is it just ’cause Chris is a good team player and just so goshdarn smart?

Whatever its I’m sure it will be as stupid and underwhelming as every other plot device we’ve seen this winter. Bring on baseball, as this’ll be the only place we see it for a while. Can’t wait to see if Valley Tech will put someone in their scoreboard to steal the Mudlarks’ signs and beat on a garbage can.

 

Weird Science

Well there you are and here I am. Get out your crayons and your pencils and start connecting these dots. Somewhere between Chris pouncing on that old test copy and shooting it into the library wastebasket, Kaz playing “smell my fingers” and Gil confronting Chris, Mr. Rollins went to Gil with Teddy Boy’s story and basically accused Chris of cheating.

Why didn’t Rollins confront Chris directly? Oh yeah, because Milford High is Gil’s world and everyone else just lives in it. It would also be tantamount to an admission by Rollins that he gives the same midterm every year. Lazy, for sure, but is Rollins just following the coaches’ lead in that regard?

Faux cliffhanger in P3. We’re led to believe Chris is lying, but he’ll likely tell Gil that Teddy gave him a copy of a test but told him it was a copy of last year’s test and why would he want last year’s test ’cause teachers aren’t so lazy as to give the same test every year, amirite?

Now get yourself some ’80s. Thirty-five years ago. Jeez.

Failing the Schuring Test

I propose to consider the question, ‘Can comic strip writers think?’ This should begin with definitions of the meaning of the terms ‘comic strip writer’ and ‘think’. The definitions might be framed so as to reflect so far as possible the normal use of the words, but this attitude is dangerous. If the meaning of the words ‘comic strip writer’ and ‘think’ are to be found by examining how they are commonly used it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the meaning and the answer to the question, ‘Can comic strip writers think?’ is to be sought in a statistical survey such as a Gallup poll. But this is absurd.

One of the long-running tropes on the mothership of comics snark is that the strip Archie is written by the “Archie Joke Generating Laugh Unit 3000.” As for Gil Thorp: Artificial? Definitely. Intelligent? Well, uh, at least one of this season’s main characters has both her first and last names derived from well-known forms of artificial intelligence. (Ya think that’s where Rubin’s been leading us all along? Nah, gives him too much credit.)

Today I reckon we’re getting set up to find out if Chris Schuring is made of the same moral fiber as Alexa Watson. Teddy drove faster than the speed of light to get over to the library and reprise his Eddie Haskell schtick. Hoping against hope that we find out why mohawk boy has been holding a grudge toward Chris; otherwise this is just another red herring.

Instead of firing any more synapses to predict that outcome, I prefer to shift my focus to ponder the Milford Public Library and its parameters. How late does it stay open? Is it adequately heated? Did it get its start as a Carnegie Library? Is Aaron Aagard living there now? Talk amongst yourselves.

MOLECULES DO NOT WORK THAT WAY

Before I even get into snarking on this tired trope I’m gonna rant about the way those molecules are drawn on the midterm, with bonds just sprouting at random off cyclic compounds. I majored in chemistry and once upon a time I was a lab rat so this lazy-assed artwork triggers me even more than yesterday’s Goshen Shabbat Goyim jersey.  DAMMIT WHIGHAM BONDS DON’T JUST BRANCH OFF BETWEEN OTHER BONDS THESE ARE MOLECULES NOT MOLTEN ALUMINUM POURED IN A FIRE ANT NEST

Okay, now that that’s off my chest: The “steal the answers to the exam” trope has been made into a feature film at least twice and has been the plot of teen sitcoms too many times to count. We’re expected to believe our two overachieving student/athletes are going to stoop to buying a copy of an old exam from a kid who has done nothing but prank and tease one of them for Lord knows what reason that has yet to be revealed to us. Schuring at the least should be suspicious of DeMarco’s motives and, if she has any sense, so should Watson. Given that Chris has already shown himself not to consider Alexa an adversary, he should hip her to punk Teddy’s schtick in no time flat.

Of course nothing will be that straightforward. Honestly, in the past two weeks Rubin has not only let this plot run into the ditch but launched it off an embankment Toonces the Cat style.

Hair’s-Eye View

Hip dysplasia might be a thing in the Thorp family. Gil showed signs of it two weeks ago; today, it’s Coach Mimi’s turn. No need to use her lap to balance her AMOS laptop; Mimi can just pop that old hip out of its socket and turn her leg into a table. The Thorps might’ve passed that trait on to their kids, and that’s why the kids ended up going to that farm upstate.

What’s Mimi doing on that laptop that’s so piqued Gil’s interest? Poring over stats like their players? Maybe it’s not what’s on AMOS but that Faberge Organics shampoo robmize posted about yesterday. Gil’s leaned in so far for a sniff that the last panel is literally drawn from the perspective of Mimi’s hair. Don’t believe me? Check out the color version of the strip:

I wonder if Mimi will let slip the psychological tactics she’s used on Alexa to Gil while they re-enact The Thing with Two Heads. Then we’ll find out who’s really had the offensive presence.

Now Featuring The Incredible Shrinking “GIL” Mug

After a week of actual action and actual coaching in practice, we were overdue for some actual off-court wackiness in Milford. Where else would we have expected it than the teachers’ lounge?

Today’s strip finds Gil with a horribly dislocated hip and holding a stack of papers with what looks like a pile of French fries. Cue this MHS administrative type lady coming to him with news of player grades, presumably in his role as AD. Would this have not mattered more at the beginning of the season, when grades might determine eligibility? Or does Milford have some arcane rule that if your grades start dropping, you get kicked off the team?  That might explain the underachievement all these years.

Now what is it about Alexa’s academic issues that has caused Gil’s head to bobble and his coffee mug to shrink? Could it be that Mimi’s sudden emphasis on her playing offense has Alexa distracted from the books? Or was it Mimi’s playing grab-ass and the thoughts of blowing the whistle that have shaken her? Maybe Miss Watson is tired of the computer/virtual assistant jokes and is thinking that tanking a few grades may make those jokes go away. There’s never a good reason for sabotaging your chances of leaving a tank town, so the latter is kind of doubtful.

Putting Mussels on Our Ears

Welcome to the year 2020, where Dippin’ Dots are still The Ice Cream of the Future, the halls of Milford High are still as shiny as ever and girls in Milford are still wearing huge earrings.  Alexa and her sidekick appear to have made theirs from mussel shells.

Sidekick there seems to have forgotten that athletic prowess and academic ranking aren’t exactly correlated.  Dropping one’s field goal percentage doesn’t drop one from valedictorian to salutatorian.  Conversely, wishing athletic success to one’s academic competition doesn’t raise one’s class rank, either.  If that were the case, wishing academic failure on one’s competition would lower one’s class rank even further.  Schadenfreude is not a good look on anybody but one, I expect, we’ll see with increasing frequency throughout this arc.

Now Alexa’s off to the MHS Medical Center where she’ll visit a freshly hammered Teddy DeMarco.  Wait, what?  It’s the MHS Media Center?  Cool.  She can listen to the musical inspiration for today’s post title.