Jaquan and Trey Get Laid

I didn’t think this little game of catch needed a cliffhanger, did you?  Didn’t think so.

My shortest post yet? I think so.

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Which Two Did He Hit?

Poor Ryan.  Fist at the ready but he’s not supposed to punch anyone.  Way to not take advantage of a situation.

Know who else hasn’t taken advantage of a situation?  Marty Moon!  If he broadcasts every Milford game, he’d have seen the protest poster and been on the story like white on rice. Even if he doesn’t broadcast every game, surely Marjie Ducey would’ve picked up the story and he’d have commented on it. (Pouty Daftpunk isn’t the only “journalist” in town, dontchaknow.) Instead Marty’s been sitting in his basement, rolling his dice and composing music on his Casiotone. See the pile of blank staff paper on top of the keyboard?

Don’t look now folks but in a week’s time Milford has supposedly played six games. Reckon they’ll finish the season by the end of the month – or before Dafiltefish crawls back to Ms. Rizk begging to get back on the Trumpet staff?  Let’s put in an order to Rob’s Pizza and watch things unfold; I hear the breadsticks are a must. I’d say we could hang out but Rob’s is takeout or delivery only.

Blooper Reel

Daftpunk can’t run her precious little hit piece on Ryan, so she quits the school paper.  Ryan gets rattled when Central girls troll him about an event that (according to his parents) wasn’t all that, so he loses his mojo and quits on the mound. Now the rest of the Milford baseball team quits all around him and the season goes down the crapper. Gil’s quit on his team too: relying on hope and working on his grilling technique, he could give two shits about the rest of the season. Yo Gil, out here in the real world, winners eat steaks, losers eat franks and beans. (By the way, what the hell is Gil wearing on his wrist? Is he talking to Dick Tracy on that thing? Maybe he’s talking with that talking baseball with EES in P1. And what the complete hell is with his hand with integrated spatula?)

Even the color monkeys phoned it in on this one: they didn’t color the Jefferson player or whatever it is Mimi’s got in that pitcher (and don’t tell me it’s straight Everclear). I’m beginning to get the idea that the Whigrub brain trust has run out of ideas on how to wrap this arc up; not saying they’ve quit on it yet, but it’s starting to feel that way.

I’ve been on the road all day to Bakst country and just arrived only a few minutes ago.  I almost quit on this post for today, so I hope you’ll forgive me for its brusque nature.

 

Chill, ‘Cane! You still got the W

Having been yanked from the game by Gil, Ryan Van Auken looks startled as he trudges into the Milford dugout.  And no wonder: judging from the motion lines Whigham drew in, Ryan’s glove arced over his left shoulder before hitting the back of the bench in front of him.  He must have thrown that shit before he walked in the dugout!

Bobby Mitchell (not the one who integrated the Redskins) earns the save when a levitating Barry Bader wills the ball to rise vertically into his outstretched glove.  Awful nice of Gil to put stripes down the sides of the Mudlark unis; gives Barry a way to relate to his old man. But what is that leaf-like object hovering over Barry’s rear end?  An actual tobacco leaf?  An indicator of his preferred kinks?  Or something else?  Talk amongst yourselves.

Saved by the ‘Cane

Maybe Wellington batters could make contact with Ryan Van Auken’s stuff if they weren’t using cricket bats.  Maybe CB Bucknor has found an umpiring job closer to his level and called that a foul tip.  Maybe Wellington’s first base coach (if they have one) shouldn’t let his baserunners get such a huge lead trailing by three runs.  Maybe Wellington shouldn’t channel the early 1980s Phillies by wearing powder blues at home. Maybe I should go back to using the black & white version of this strip for my posts.

In any event, much less drama than we were expecting out of the new kid who, from this angle, is looking an awful lot like the old new kid.  Guess we’ll have to wait a bit for his first meltdown. Maybe on the bus ride back to Milford?

Marginally Adequate, Unlike This Plot

Good grief, now Rubin’s really phoning it in. So tempted to do the same but you all have been pretty kind to me since my return so, gentle readers, I must make the effort. I do appreciate the rabbit hole of old candy bar ads yesterday. I don’t remember Chocolatey Pay Days very well, but Pay Days themselves were pretty popular where I grew up. Then again I grew up in a part of the country where people were wont to throw salted peanuts in a bottle of Coke or Pepsi so there’s that.

It would be nice if “marginally adequate” was defined, especially given that no other Mudlark’s stats have been mentioned. It would be “marginally adequate” to tell us who Milford’s opponents were and the game result, but I guess if your only goal is to show us that a couple of nosy parker players have turned their coach into a nosy parker then, hey, mission accomplished. Also, mighty nice of Gil and Mimi to leave the house to get their drink on once in a while. No probs hiding a flask in the jacket pocket to sneak into the Coffee Cantina.

My highlight of the day: back dimples on raver at P1, lower left. She’s gone all Mardi Gras in her party bra on us. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

Periodic Domination?

Let’s leave aside the mysterious periodic relationship between Aaron, his mother and Milford basketball for a moment and get back to something we really haven’t talked about enough.

Someone needs to explain to me what the hell is going on with Aardvark’s hair because between panels one and two it is not at all clear to me where it is shorn nor where it has been left to grow out.

Bonus point: Panel two is pretty darn awesome. Not sure why it couldn’t have been done across the final two panels as the drawing of Marty doesn’t add anything.

 

Feed and Granger

As Ned would say, “It’s Madison Time!”

Have you ever seen a basketball court where the free throw lane is three times as wide as the tipoff circle? No, that can’t be the three-point line since the lines for the lane are coming straight down from it with no top of the key in between. The basket doesn’t exactly line up, either. Follow that up with the weirdly foreshortened right arm of the Madison hooper and Aaron Aagard’s exploding forelock and the visuals are a bit much to take today.

Why am I expounding on this minutiae? Because it will come as no surprise on Monday when Quadruple A (channeling his inner El Hechizado in P3), missing his mommy, bricks the easy inside shot and sends Milford falling from the ranks of the undefeated. After that, we’ll spend the rest of next week trying to find out What’s Eating Aaron Aagard.