“This Is Not Our Chance. Chance Macy Is Our Chance.”

Okay folks, I know I’ve been losing a couple of steps here and there but at what point did we see these two mooks actually encourage their teammates to take sides in their competition? Did they not start talking “Team Rapson” and “Team Thayer” of their own volition? And at what point did the fire hydrant-shaped Corina grow to be as tall as Rapson and nearly as tall as Thayer?

The wackiness of this setup just gets wackier when Corina suggest they go at it with chairs WWE style and just trash the place. Maybe this is how she really ended up at Valley Mod and all that talk of supporting her depressed mom was just a facade. Better they go at it with butter knives at five paces. There’s an ex-Mudlark at State U who could give ’em a few pointers.

Mudlarks with Filthy Souls

Well surprise, surprise, surprise! Rapson enters Casa Karenna only to find Thayer manspreading across Corina’s sofa. Didn’t realize Will had such enmity toward Rapp, but then again he might just be pissed that his quarterbacking rival has turned into a potential blocker. I’ve already used up my Fight Club references and I’m really hard pressed to come up with any explanation of what we’re seeing here that doesn’t quickly devolve into pornography. So have at it, ya filthy animals.

Being Milford, this is going to end in the most nonsexual way possible. Also being Milford, my money is on Gil putting up Mimi to put up Corina to do his job for free what he could not: get his quarterbacks – and, by extension, the rest of their teammates – to play nice with each other, again in the most nonsexual way possible.

A Shot in the Dark

Oh geez, here we go again with the volleyball girls who finish each other’s sentences. This schtick is getting old, just like everything else in this fall arc. (Don’t try getting your left hand and wrist that close to your face at that angle like the dark-haired girl in P2. We don’t have any chiropractors on staff here.) So what’s with the tiny crack in Corina’s “What football team? I don’t care about the football team” veneer? Does the idea of guys fighting get her all tingly and stuff?

Now for the mildly interesting cliffhanger that might answer that question. It’s been established that Corinna has zero interest in the quarterback boys. So why the h-e-double-hockey sticks is she inviting Rapp over to her place on a school night? Time for a “shot” to impress mama Karenna by sitting in on a hot game of Uno? Or is mama Karenna off to therapy and Rapp’s “shot” is to steal as many bases as possible off the catcher? Oh, it’s high ribaldry at its best! And it’s about to start – let’s watch!

Bonfire?

These are the two quarterbacks, right? I don’t remember what they look like. Let’s say they’re Rapson and Thayer, but I’m not gonna swear I know which is which. The point is that one of them has now caught a glimpse of Corina and he’s interested. The other one wonders if he might get a leg up on the QB competition if his rival is smitten by the Milford “it girl”.

It’s all about Corina, friends. We’d better just get used to it. She’s sassy and brassy, she’s a catcher, she’s a prospective volleyball player, everybody’s talking about her and she’s just getting warmed up at Milford High School.

So could we tear our attention away from Corina for one panel so we can show this flippin’ bonfire? We can cut back to Corina afterwards as she stares into the flames, consumed with impulses to make the world BURN!

ETA: I just read of the sudden passing of Bill Bickel, aka CIDU Bill, who wrote the Comics I Don’t Understand blog. (It’s been over there among the Comics Mockage Posse links since the early days of TWIM.) I was not a regular reader, but I dipped in from time to time and enjoyed Bill’s unique angle on comics blogging. RIP CIDU Bill.

Baseball, pizza, apple subs, and… Ice Cream??

As much as we all wish our colleague Teenchy a swift recovery from whatever is ailing him, the first thought that crossed my mind when I heard about his condition was.. the strip was finally so far off the tracks that it made him physically ill.

And I’m sure thats not far off for the rest of us.

How on Gods green earth is this happening? We start off with the promise of a possibly exciting matchup thats so unknown that we dream of a memorable conclusion that will have the Milfordites talking about it the rest of the summer.

What we got is…not even close. How much food can these players eat in the first place to be able to play at any level resembling competitive when its already 90 degrees or so out (Yes its summer, we knew that before the game started)? I mean, really. During a normal athletic event most players are happy enough with water or Gatorade. This is like a Thanksgiving dinner for chrissake. And these kids are supposed to play with all these carbs and calories and sweets laid out for them?

I had already mentioned the umpire and the fans– did they know what was coming? Nope. Whoever planned this foodfest has shit for brains. And thats putting it mildly.

So I wont belabor their noble efforts to keep observing the constant interruptions in their job (ump) and their free time (fans). Which in any world beside ours would lead to downright mutiny.

Thank God they didnt charge admission for this or they’d be storming the Basilica.

Wherever this storyline is headed from here, somebodys got some major explaining to do. And I cant believe they have a rational one.

Get well soon Teenchy!!

 

Wasnt this gonna be a big game?

Dont know where to start- fielding tips, batting tips, pizza breaks, an umpire who by all rights should’ve headed for the hills an hour ago, and now — a sub sandwich delivery guy??  I’ve heard of fiascos but this – tops em all. Its almost turning into a Harlem Globetrotters game, where a semblance of a basketball game turns into a charade with goofy timeouts, confetti in a water bucket, and non-competitive action.

But the difference is WE KNEW BEFOREHAND! This shambles of a game is wasting the time of the fans in the stands (where have they been for 3 days?) and of course Mr. Umpire, who has the balls of a midget. No ump worth his salt would put up with anything like this fiasco. Throw everyone out of the park and go home. Thats what a real man in blue would do. Wasting his fuckin time showing delinquents how to play baseball.. not happening, man. Gimme my 25 bucks and see ya.

Of course with the odd angle of the catcher in P2, the ump stands a good chance of getting clocked in the nuts with a well-timed fastball. But since he doesnt have any, no worries.

How Long Before the Dancing Flash Mob?

We’re back from the pizza break. Just how did those pizzas ex machina show up? Please tell me one of the VM! kids leaned on Nick of Nick’s Pizza to get them gratis. “Nice delivery van you got there. Shame if something happened to it.” Now let’s see if any of these kids puke ’em up like the football players did with their sloppy joes last summer.

Wouldn’t this have been much more entertaining if Rubin had stuck to the old ’80s movie conceits, like in Animal House, Bachelor Party or Revenge of the Nerds? Instead we’re left to watch him trot out more random crap to pad this final week of the arc. The ump is as ready to get this over as we are; I think he heard the malls were reopening and is ready to get back to work at Foot Locker. No wonder he’s annoyed at yet another time out being called – but who’s calling it? Who the hell is this young lady stepping out to give Ardis a “quick pointer or two,” and why did she wait so long to do it? Couldn’t this have happened last week, when the Dead End Kids were practicing?

It Helps If You Chant “MEAN MACHINE” While You Read This

Once again Neal Rubin has driven the Milford High Activity Bus off the road and into the ditch. What was being set up as some kind of indictment of school zero-tolerance policies has morphed into some weird-ass pickup game challenge that’s equal parts The Sandlot and The Longest Yard. As farfetched as it is I have a hunch it will come to pass, since Gil’s Mudlarks will probably miss the playdowns as per usual.

This comes off as more ego gratification for the walking ego that is Mike Knappe, but I’m picking up broad hints that there’s a bigger message being sent here: don’t fight the system, accept the hand you’re dealt, and when life gives you lemons, suck on them. Not the best of timing there.

I’m sure Rubin’s got his reasons for going down this path but unlike the Caretaker, I ain’t got eight years to hear them.