This Week in Milford

July 13, 2017

There’s No Veering in Baseball!

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Well that whole journalism thing was awkward, wasn’t it?  Made me feel stupid for thinking there might be some point to it.  Let’s get back to what this strip does best: putting Milford’s girls in the orbit of Milford’s boys. After all, boys won’t watch girls play unless they’re interested in one of the players but girls will watch the boys play just because, amirite?

So to wrap the spring* plot up we’re gonna see if Ryan has indeed practiced his anger management after he gets another bad call from a crappy Valley ump and his teammates flub away a lead on him.  Marty’s mom has told him to take out the trash, so he quickly makes the Mudlarks a Fielding Three and rolls a 14 for the Tilden batter.  As with most Gil Thorp arcs, all of this would come off as a lot less contrived if the plot had been better paced. Then again, the phrase “it’s a marathon, not a sprint” is probably wasted on someone who holds track and field in such contempt.

*Feels funny calling it that in the middle of July, doesn’t it?

May 18, 2017

All Milkshakes, All The Time

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Boy, I’m glad I read the “About” section at GoComics this morning.  I was getting ready to lay into Whigrub for burying the sports-related aspects of this strip beneath ever increasing layers of vague, tell-don’t-show bullshit ” topical, teen-oriented issues.”

The spring arc is playing out to be about anger management and ethics in journalism.  Girls’ sports are getting worse than no attention; thus far they’re being portrayed solely as a means to meet boys and get free food.  (This time, fries with the milkshakes; maybe burgers too after the next game?) We clearly know what Dafne Dafuq loves more; if the Lady Mudlarks softball team had a more observant coach, Dafne would get the hint and drop the game. But the softball diamond is Thorp country, where laissez-faire coaching rules the day and nothing should be done to upset the shakes and fries gravy train.

May 11, 2017

Shakes, the Clown

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So Jimmy Caruso has eyes on Dafne Dafonte and Carrie Hobson has eyes on Rex Hudler Hurdler Gary Meola, who doesn’t have eyes on her but is gonna pretend to have eyes on her to help Caruso out in true wingman fashion, or something like that.  If we didn’t have all that exposition leading up to today, we might be led to believe that Dafne and Carrie only have eyes for each other.  Dafne has already made her disdain for track and field well known, so why is she going along with this ruse?  To play wingwoman for Carrie, of course, and to mooch a free post-game milkshake off Caruso at The Bucket.

Ah, post-game milkshakes at The Bucket: not just for no-hitter batteries anymore! Then again, were they ever? Considering the last time that happened one of the batterymates got killed, I doubt that’s a tradition that will be revived in Milford anytime soon.  Gotta find the silver linings in the cloud that hovers over Milford softball in the post-Boo Radley era where you can, and if they come in the form of budding romance I guess that’ll have to do.

May 4, 2017

Aw, Bucket! Let’s Regroup

Filed under: actual action, baseball, Gil Thorp, The Bucket — teenchy @ 6:55 am

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The sign says what Van Auken thinks. Oh wait – maybe it’s for The Bucket. This is a Milford home game (and a G-rated comic strip) after all.

So has C.B. Bucknor finally been assigned to games on his umpiring level?  To be fair I can see how the pitch may not have actually been a strike.  Granger’s white catcher’s mitt makes for a difficult target. (C’mon, color monkeys, if you’re gonna color the gloves, color ’em all!)  The batter, the catcher, the ball, and the base line all seem to be drawn in different planes and our POV doesn’t give us any clue as to where the corner actually is.

Artwork aside, suffice it to say that many umps would toss a pitcher after making a pissy expression like ‘Cane did.  Case in point (one of many):

Maybe Van Auken gets off with a warning this time, but I guarantee that by game’s end he’ll have acted pissy again and gotten ejected. In the Thorpiverse, that leads to an immediate benching for the next game by Gil – a game in which, inevitably, the Mudlarks will lose because of the benched player being unavailable.  Gil will probably make Bader or Pelwecki pitch in relief and get shelled, then lay a guilt trip on Van Auken.

All this could be avoided if Granger calls Ken Brown over from first for a conference. The three of them could discuss finding another family to break up and the lousy strike zone would be forgotten.

April 15, 2017

Giving Up Walks with a Ghost

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Reading yesterday’s strip left me scratching my head.  I wasn’t sure if Dafne Dafuq was trolling Carrie Hobson by tagging her the “star pitcher” or simply trying to boost her ego.  After all, Carrie’s track record isn’t much to get excited about, so why not get her excited about a track athlete?  Because nobody gets excited about track in Milford – nobody.

Carrie knows the score and isn’t afraid to admit it. In so doing she hips us to the fact that the late Boo Radley was a junior last season – a fact I don’t think Rubin hipped us to before. (Thanks billytheskink for the confirmation; I hadn’t had my coffee yet this morning when I posted.)  Dafuq then seizes the opportunity to further troll Carrie by calling her by Boo’s nickname for True. I think we’ve got a real shit-stirrer in the making here, on the diamond or off.

BTW, have we learned Double D’s position yet? Between those Ernie Lombardi mitts of hers and her penchant for needling people, she seems a natural behind the plate.

Today’s post title inspiration:

January 5, 2017

Googling Molly

Filed under: freak hands, google nonsense, The Bucket — nedryerson @ 4:55 am

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We now return you to Mike Granger and Ken Brown, Boy Detectives. Mike and Ken are working a case to determine if Aaron Aagard is rolling on molly on the regs or just plain flakey. The first snag they hit is that Ken Brown’s fingers might be too freakishly big to efficiently google molly. His iPhone looks like a pack of gum in those mitts! Then, our investigators must grapple with how to proceed with their information. Who needs to know about Aagard’s fondness for disco biscuits*? Stay tuned for more Mike Granger and Ken Brown, Boy Detectives.

I’m enjoying the foreground tray of Bucket chow. Nice touch, Whigham.

*slang term for molly found by googling it

 

October 22, 2016

Backing Up (Like a Dump Truck)

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Kevin Pelwecki may not have a poster of the right guard on his wall, but does he have Groucho Marx and Chuck McCann in his medicine cabinet?

Here we were for the past couple of days remarking on how this strip portrays football positions in dialog balloons as abbreviations and wondering whether Milfordians pronounced them as abbreviations, and now here are kids sounding out the full name of each position. In so doing The Secret Pelwecki shows himself to be yet another in a very long line of Milford Idiots who want nothing more than to be the defensive lineman right guard center of attention. I blame reality television.

Then – hey y’all, look! It’s a rare Coach Shaw spotting – and with more lines than just about ever. He’s setting us up for the fifth-string QB‘s transition into the third-string TE. Kaz, however, has had enough of his talk. By doing an end-around to snatch Coach Shaw’s MATT mug, Kaz asserts his dominance over Coach Shaw and maintains his status as beta male on the Milford sidelines.

October 6, 2016

Same Look, Different Results

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I was disappointed to learn that the Sulphur Tors aren’t named for Tor Johnson but is short for “(Golden) Tornados.” How cool would it have been to see the Sulphur fans turn out in Tor Johnson masks?

The Tors also wear dark jerseys at home. Hell of a road trip from the Great Lakes down practically to the Gulf of Mexico. If  the “later” when the team arrives at The Bucket is the same night of the game then the Mudlarks must’ve taken a chartered jet back home. Maybe Wildcat Maris and the booster club got a multi-year deal after Gil & co. lucked into the state title season before last, and couldn’t back out of it after last season’s Holly Dobbs-orchestrated clinker.

Did Marty make the trip south or is he doing a recreation from his crate? Is he mentally willing the ball into Max Ortiz’s hands via his pose, or is he channeling his inner Rooster Cogburn? And how about that puny souvenir football Max hauled in for the insurance score? If they use balls that small during game situations, maybe The Secret Pelwecki won’t have so much trouble handing them off. Let’s hope Heather Burns, The Quarterback Whisperer, has a supply on hand in the morning.

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