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

 

“Mimi and I washed our hands. Here, Alexa, smell ’em.”

Well, rob went there yesterday. I was beginning to wonder how long we at TWIM could go without making mention of the current global crisis, one that could end up making the crisis that gave us the Padillas story arc a couple of seasons ago look relatively minor in comparison.

As I write a good many of us may be working from home, either by choice or by force. Some of us may already have been working from home, but travel restrictions may be keeping us from visiting our clients or customers. Rob works for the USPS, so I doubt working from home is an option for him. (Be careful out there, rob.) Some of us may see our work cut back or lost entirely. Too soon to tell.

Less than a month ago I was planning on playing hooky taking the day off from work and going into DC to see something no one has seen in ninety-five years: a major league baseball team that calls Washington home raise a world championship banner. Then the Nats announced they wouldn’t be selling single game tickets for Opening Day, that the tix would only be available as part of a season ticket plan or partial plan. (Ah yes, the sweet smell of success.) Okay, whatevs, I’ll hit StubHub. It might be another ninety-five years before it happens again.

In the words of Gilda Radner’s Emily Litella, “Never mind.” MLB cancelled the rest of spring training and postponed the start of the season by at least two weeks. The NBA, NHL, MLS, and Premier League have suspended their seasons; the XFL (look it up) canceled its season outright. The Masters, PGA and LPGA tours, and most motorsports events have been postponed. The NCAA has cancelled all remaining winter and spring sports championships; any March Madness we see will not be on a basketball court.

Where I live the schools have been closed for at least the next two weeks. The SATs scheduled for today have been postponed. High school sports have been cancelled for the remainder of the academic year, including the basketball playoffs. I guess it’s a good thing Rubin and Whigham have helped prepare us for our immediate sports-free future by turning away from sports to a few weeks of he-said, she-said about academic cheating.

Just wait until the spring story arcs start in a week or two. They’ll make the Thorpiverse look even more like a fantasy land than it already does. Stay safe, TWIMers.

Update (5:25pm EDT): In all the gloom and doom I forgot to wish you all a happy Pi Day. I took time out of my day to bake a pie – an old school Florida favorite, sour orange pie. Here’s a pic so that you may enjoy vicariously. My meringue styling skills could be better.

Time to stick this dude in the toilet and press Flush

Really. He hasnt even been home 5 minutes from getting canned at WDIG and he’s already orchestrated the removal of FIRE THORP from the billboard and the painting of an ad for a local pizza joint that I’m sure blows just like his basketball skills, his radio skills and his ingratiating personality.

Yeah bro you got talent all right. The next company that interviews you for your so-called skills will send you away laughing up their sleeve at the sucker who actually hires you.

I havent seen his  pizza-flipping skills yet but maybe thats what he has in mind. Pretty sad to go from the next Bobby Knight to the next Joe Aurelio, basketball-wise anyway.  Maybe he could start this business:

“This town will never forget me.” Yeah right — — as a matter of fact when Milford erects a statue of you the birds will be lining up to shit on it.

Warriors! Come out to play-ay!

The Arapaho(e) are a Native American tribe of the Great Plains. Arapahoe High School, near Denver, unfortunately made national news almost five years ago to this day for a shooting which left one student dead and the shooter taking his own life.

Well, after that bit of cheer to start off our day, let’s dive in to the traditional Mouseketeer Roll Call of the roster.  This time it’s Marty who’s doing the roll call, as it appears that Marjie whipped out the pepper spray on Gil once he started becoming too much of a close talker.  “Sorry, Mr. Coach Thorp, mediocre may be good enough for Mrs. Coach Thorp, but it’s not good enough for me.”

Marginal Mike Filion and Nosey Parker Andre Ruffin form the backcourt. The starting forwards are seventh-year senior Paul Beaudry and – wait, what?  Is Jorge Padilla still in Milford?  How did Marty pronounce his name? (I’m guessing correctly given Moon’s chastened, pissy look on his face.)  Have the Padillas not moved back to Puerto Rico or at least Georgia?  Rubin dropped the ball bigly on the Padilla story last winter, and I doubt he’ll be picking it up again now.

Nope, my guess is that when we’re not delving into the mystery of Two Billboards Outside Milford or watching Filion having me time in his bedroom, we’ll get some minor focus on “scrawny,” “lanky” center Marcell Irby (thanks to whom I can’t stop thinking of Jerry Clower, which probably says more about me than Rubin) and his struggles in the paint.  Burly Rick Soto will probably sub for Marcell after he gets banged around and Milford will lose any height advantage it may have had.

Arapahoe’s sports teams* are called the Warriors, a perfect setup for Milford’s nerdy cutesy snarky student body.  Maybe Ernie from My Three Sons and the Milford Pirate Network can lead the fans in the chant.

 

 

 

 

*Colorado high school basketball teams participate in playoffs, not playdowns.

Making Things Worse

I’m struggling to grasp anyone’s motivations here other than, perhaps, Ma Bader’s. Well, I suppose Barry’s motivation is that he’s a hot headed moron* with self esteem issues but that doesn’t make for the most compelling protagonist. At least not as written here…

Bonus points:

P1: Ah, the rare ANDS brand laptop, disfavored by Milford teens who prefer |||| brand computers. I’ll leave speculation as to the nature of the mysterious foreground display to our wonderful commenters.

P2: I’m digging the Bader’s mismatched chairs at their tiny kitchen table underneath the chandelier they stole from a TGI Friday’s. Also, Steve Luhm has clearly been moonlighting.

P3: I’m sure I’ve floated some truly idiotic ideas in front of my mom over the years but I don’t think I’ve ever given her occasion to give me such an exaggerated (and presumably genuine) stinkeye.

* Seriously, ‘enoblers’?

Metapost: As this year’s Memorial Day celebrations recede into memory, please bear in mind the veterans who surely number amongst this count.

Gil’s Not Alone in Needing Good Ideas

If you were plugged into the 24/7 news cycle yesterday, you know that much of Puerto Rico has gone dark again. You also know that that didn’t stop The Show from going on… unlike in Pleasantville Milford, where suspending Marty stops the show dead in its tracks.

Rubin is forcing us to connect many dots today as he lurches toward an awkward, tone-deaf ending to this underwhelming, once-promising arc. The first dot is Gil’s acknowledgement that Karina, at his suggestion, instigated the Milford Pirate Boy Network and thus had a hand in bringing about Marty’s suspension. The second dot is that Gil convinced the Padillas’ and Karina’s teacher to let them skip class (he has a history of doing this, y’know) to sit around the most lovingly rendered cafeteria table in comics history and decide on Marty’s penance. The third dot (and maybe several more after that) is that whatever terms the kids decided on were presented by Gil to Pocket Square Sporting Radio Station Manager, who accepted them and delivered them to Marty as an ultimatum – agree to these or you’re fired.

All of this unfolded even more slowly than Boo Radley’s fatal car crash, but faster than the full restoration of Puerto Rico’s power grid. In a world where teens can tweet and stand against social injustice while adults cower and hedge, all of this would’ve played out in the course of a week. We could’ve been treated with two months of Drunken Uber Driver Marty Moon dumpster diving for the dregs of Johnnie Walker bottles and begging for a cameo on Pirate Boy’s YouTube livestream.

So sit back and buckle up for the last few days of this bumpy ride. Me, I’m off in search of some Pudge Coffee. (Seriously. Check it out. Not affiliated with Pudge or his coffee.)

Welp, It’s Long Past Time For Pitchers And Catchers To Report

And the NBA playdowns are just around the corner so I guess it’s fortunate that we’re taking this week to wrap up all of the loose ends of a typically thoughtful treatment regarding the tragic plight of a serious, real life, on-going crisis.

Duncan with a fucking parrot on his shoulder indeed. At least panel three shows us why he needed to go for the pirate hat to round out his look.

Metapost: Apologies for the late post as I got pulled away from my desk before hitting ‘Publish’.  Boy, I wasn’t in too good of a mood to start the day, was I?

Six Months After Maria

The above is asinine.

The below is infuriating.

https://www.vox.com/2018/3/20/17144550/puerto-rico-hurricane-maria-today-explained-podcast