This concludes the second game of the season at Kettering. Kettering tried to get fancy with a sweep but there was the games unsung hero, Steve Lehto, again to sniff it out and finish off the drive that had just started on the recovery of QB Tevin Claxton’s fumble. Marty Moon finishes doing something (opening a pill bottle?) while he concludes his broadcast to three listeners.
After the game, the real drama resumes. Tevin Claxton had a history of choking in JV, or so we heard earlier from Boyd Spiller. It looks like ol’ Boyd is there to remind Tevin of this and needle his quarterback about his almost costly fumble in this game. Well done, Boyd. You’ve solidified your role as this season a-hole newcomer.
Heather Burns Twitter feed has remained silent. Maybe she’s only going to work home games. Who needs a media strategy?
You wanted actual action, you got actual action! We’re down to the wire at Kettering. We pick up the action with a curious panel of a Pioneer with his feet out of bounds, with his hips and shoulders sort of squared to the sideline, facing the center of the field. How did he get there? What led up to that? Was he moon walking with the ball to egg on the Milford player? Is this on the same play as the fumble or is it on a Kettering offensive possession after the fumble? We don’t know. We can’t know. It’s static sports action and at least the colors are correct.
Marty Moon calls the action. There are 62 seconds to play and Kettering is knocking on the door. None of the windows open on Marty’s laptop have any porn on them as far as we can see, but maybe some of those are his Valley Conference fantasy league stats. Man, it’s getting harder and harder to be interested in Marty Moon lately. I thought he was gonna hulk out yesterday, but he’s just a dude in a crate with a laptop and a microphone. True tales from Snoozeville.
The Kettering Pioneers are running the ball. The Milford defender looks sad. Does he have a shot at a tackle or is he flat footed and out of position as the Pioneer whizzes past? Don’t know. Is paydirt in sight or is the Pioneer about to encounter actual contact? I’ll tell you more on Monday when one presumes we’ll know something.
This strip was a disappointment. It gave me nothing to chew on except confusion about the drawings and boredom with meek Marty. But it’s Saturday and I’m not in my usual Monday morning hurry to post something and turn my attention to the grueling hellscape that is my forty hour work week. What shall we talk about?
I used the word paydirt. It’s a curious old term with origins in prospecting for precious metals, but it became associated with football at some point, representing the idea of the rich reward waiting in the grass beyond the goal line. When I was a kid, there was a football game called Paydirt! that I remember from toy stores. I never knew what the game entailed, but it looked enticing with a Sports Illustrated style dramatic photo on the cover. Perhaps it was something cooler than those disappointing electric football games if you wanted to get your fix of football for the six days a week you couldn’t watch football. It turns out it was more of a stats driven game like strat-o-matic baseball. That probably wouldn’t have thrilled me as a ten year old. Paydirt! sounds like a lot more fun than Data Driven Football. That’s some Marketing 101. In retrospect, there was probably some Parenting 101 involved if I ever expressed an interest in this game. If I ever asked about getting it, I’m sure my dad could have quickly assessed that this game would bore me in about 62 seconds and that a Nerf football was a much better return on investment.
First off thanks again to Teenchy for filling in while I was camping in bear country last weekend. Upper Michigan is a beautiful sight this time of year with the changing leaves, and the weather was even more calm then last year.
Back to the game– Gil is managing to blow this lead as we figured, as Tevin only has 1 hand on the rock as its punched away a la Peanut Tillman in his Bear heyday. Whatever that glove is on Claxtons hand, it isnt sticky enough to hold the ball. Safe and smart all right Gil. Its been a fairly close game, and no matter what formation you run, whether its the Delaware Hens or the Baltimore Chop, you still need TWO hands on the ball when running out the clock. And in an evenly matched contest, ‘a few first downs’ on 1 drive is almost impossible. Gildo acts like its routine. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool Gil 20 times, ….. he comes back for more.
Time for the annual f-t-f pissing match between Gil and Marty. Marty asks a legit question of Gil and gets a pissy backhanded insult in return. Sure, Gil wins this one on paper, but come game time he might be singing a different tune.
Marty is absolutely not wrong in putting this question to Gil. Thorp started running his Delaware Wing-T again last season, and is still running it this season. He’s surprising exactly nobody with it. There are a plethora of YouTube videos on how to defend against the Wing-T, many of them quite lengthy. Here’s one of the briefest for your perusal.
A team that is regularly exposed to a Wing-T offense (as Kettering supposedly has been) will be better prepared to defend against it, even if it is “a little different,” as Gil claims. In this case “a little different” looks like it’ll translate into “a passing game where our receivers don’t look the ball into their hands.”
Kettering was a Detroit high school in a very tough neighborhood. It was closed about ten years ago due to declining attendance, a crumbling physical plant, low academic performance, and gang activity. The former Kettering site, first re-imagined as an urban farm, is now going to become a manufacturing plant for an auto parts supplier. As a shout-out to a Detroit long past, how will Rubin reimagine the Kettering team? Urban tough guys or something else?
In the grander scheme of things, we can see Marty becoming ever more irrelevant on the Mudlark sports reporting scene. Heather’s quick thumbs can spew out tweets as fast as he can call play-by-play, providing the analysis in real time that he might otherwise have to do between snaps. Having also been Gil’s protégé, Heather has the inside line to locker room scoops that Marty never will. Since he’s lost the journalistic high ground, Marty should have free reign to wallow deeper in the Milford mud. He can begin on Friday night into Saturday morning once Kettering has shut down Gil’s predictable old-school offense.
So much for that breather! The Mudlarks slow things down so much that night turned into day. Milford scores 13 more points after switching from the vaunted Delaware Wing-T and hangs half a hundred on Oakwood. It’s a wonder Tod Andrews (that is Tod, innit?) isn’t giving Gil a piece of his mind for running up the score on his hapless Owls.
Up in his crate, Evil Spock Marty gleefully calls the game. No doubt he believes Marjie Ducey’s departure to warmer pastures has cemented Milford’s status as his town. Marty had better keep his head on a swivel, though, since Heather Burns is on the scene quicker than you can tweet #radioisadyingmedium.
Heather’s thumbs are quicker than Marty’s lungs, and her approach to sports reporting is fresher than Shane Beamer’s postgame presser after the Georgia-South Carolina game. She’s got no time for Gil’s old man football coachspeak; she’s off to track down the man of the hour, Chance “Don’t Call Me Blowtop” Macy, and give him a squeeze.
Careful where you grab Chance, Heather: five years’ age difference might not mean much to the cruisers at Barney’s Pub (speaking of Evil Spock Marty) but when it’s a recent high school graduate and a high school senior, well, let’s just say it’s not always looked upon kindly.
Katy and Zane are still riffing on this Romeo and Juliet nonsense? Sheathe your weapon Katy, Chief Lind expressly hath forbidden bandying in Milford streets. Did we really have to check in with these star crossed idiots again for a single panel accounting for half the tags on this post. Katy has all the chunky accoutrements and is posing in front of a prairie style window. It’s enough to make you plotz.
There’s more baseball to be played. Oh joy. Marty has to drag the crate out in the summer heat and document Zane Romeo Clark’s exploits on the mound. He’s probably sitting on a cooler full of iced cold Schlitz.
Round about the time Marty is cracking open his tenth beer, Valley Tech gets on the board and we watch a relay throw coming in from the outfield. Yawn. Is there any of that pie left?
Scott Kempner of The Dictators and The Del Lords, take it away:
Hey, look! It’s Marty Moon, who has been keeping a pretty low profile of late. He dragged his crate over to Madison and he’s giving us an update on what’s been happening on the diamond. A whole host of also rans have been doing baseball things. Gonzo has been pitching a “dandy” and, looking to start an offensive charge, we have Dallas George and Curtis Charles getting on base, setting the table for DUN DUN DUNNNN, Zane Clark! As you recall, Zane started in right for this game. His work on the mound has been shaky of late, but now it’s time to see how he’s doing at the plate.
The Madison pitcher throws Zane a high fastball and KRAK! Zane stings it! A stinger. Oh boy, oh boy. Did he sting it hard enough to get in at least the tying run? We’ll leave it right there for now. Hey, isn’t this better than Library Board shenanigans and Mimi forcing college down Corina’s throat? Um, maybe?
It’s been a while since we’ve had a Madison Time video. I thought maybe I had mined all the interesting (a relative term) clips from YouTube, but here’s one that showed up in the last year. It’s the standard Ray Bryant Combo recording but it features film of boring white people, Joan Darby and Joe Cash, demonstrating all the intricate Madison Time moves with plenty of close ups for those of you that haven’t been able to pick up the steps so far. Wow, look at their “Rifleman”! That oughta clear the dance floor! Their “Wilt Chamberlain” could use a little work though. Enjoy!
Yesterday and Thursday it was Zane changing outfits from one panel to the next (not to mention Katy’s eyes changing from blue to brown). Before that, it was Mama Brito’s constantly color-changing hair. Today it’s the always-red Mudlarks in black and chartreuse. There’s a lack of institutional control in the Thorpiverse and it’s throwing everyone for a loop. Hell, even Marty’s so pissed that his notebook is bleeding out onto his shirt and he’s karate chopping his pencil. Then again, his sippy cup’s nowhere to be seen so he might just be having a case of the DTs.
The Mudlarks have apparently traveled to Austin, Texas, to face Crockett. (There are no doubt other Crockett Highs; as this one hasn’t been identified by nickname yet, I reserve the right to come back and edit this post.) After his shaky bullpen outing, Zane Clark has somehow earned a right to a start, and he almost immediately goes all Robin Roberts Max Scherzer and gives up a gopher ball. He’s not throwing strikeouts like Mad Max, unfortunately.
Gil and Kaz laugh this off Bull Durham style. Surprised Kaz didn’t make a crack about the ball having a stewardess.
They must figure if Zane digs a hole early, he can’t blow a lead.
Seriously, though. There has got to be someplace that still runs this strip in black and white, doesn’t there?
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