This Week in Milford

July 6, 2020

An Unofficial Loss

The big event has come to a halt. It looks like The Mayor and Gonzo (?) are reviewing the game. The big takeaway is that Hiawatha and Corina Karenna are bonding over ice cream bars. I’ll bet an ice cream bar goes down nice and easy when your standing in the heat with a chest protector strapped to you. The odds are that we’ll never hear from Hiawatha/Corina again. Their meet cute will be as much a footnote to Mudlark lore as the rest of Hiawatha’s appearances.

This postmortem tells us that the game never actually ended. Presumably, the umpire got sick of all the nonsense and walked away. Also, the infield was covered in regurgitated pizza, subs and ice cream so it was kind of a health hazard.

What wrap up would be complete without Kaz and Gil summarizing something that they didn’t participate in? It looks like Kaz is catching Gil just as he’s sliding down a freshly waxed hallway in his socks. (Good job, Steve!) Yep, everyone left happy and there were only a few minor cases of food poisoning.

July 5, 2020

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!!

 

July 3, 2020

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.

July 2, 2020

Tighten Those Abs When You Close The Tailgate In The Latest Jane Fonda Workout Video.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 4:04 am

 

That’s right, you should be feeling a burn when you close those pecs tighter than a screwdriver on a loose nut when you are making a routine grounder to first. Get down and dirty when the ball takes a bad hop and get the adrenaline in those glutes. Feel your radial and ulna strain for redemption when you’re diving for a vicious line drive.

As long as we’re going to tell Rent-an-Ump that he really has no authority and was just called by Gil to do glorified babysitting, we might as well get a decent exercise regimen going. There’s really nothing better to do than boss people around because the ump really isn’t doing it, a shark with no teeth, (hey, that sounds like Gil) and eating pizza while catching up with Elviney and Loweezy on the latest gossip. As long as the backstop really isn’t designated for baseball purposes, we might as well use it for SOMETHING, since our tax dollars are financing this structure without a sport. Gossiping through the fence is just as good as anything at this point.

Hitorque raised a good point. This is too much like parents getting overinvolved with their kids, especially at the Instructional level. And as Coach Stuard taught me, it is too late to instruct once the game starts. That’s where you instruct in PRACTICE.

But as long as Phoebe Keener bombed out as a virtual graduate assistant for Mimi in basketball (but she could read those meaningless stats as if she were Vin Scully) or girlfriend (well, not all her fault, The Mayor sealed his own fate buttering Pop-Tarts) or softball player (hey, franchise players rally the troops when Jamila gets injured stubbing her toe on the pitching rubber) or a friend in need (her actions towards The Mayor after his exile were noble but now he’s hawking pizza in the stands when he’s not the glue for this Valley Mudified team that is coming apart at the seams.

So she has found her calling as a bleacher bum who instills words of wisdom to players who wouldn’t be caught dead playing this sport, let alone this game(?) , hoping they’ll learn to turn the 6-4-3 double play by osmosis. Kinda like Norman Vincent Peale trying to instruct Kareem Abdul-Jabbar on how to get the heck out of the way when Kareem’s the shortstop and an outfielder is calling him off on a tweener fly ball. Man coming in has the right-of-way, Kareem. Okay, time to sit down in my lawn chair, light my pipe and enjoy fun at the old ball park. Until Kareem overthrows the 1st baseman and the runner is given a 2-base award. Then the fun stops and you tell Kareem to throw to the chest.

 

Face it, we’re not out of the woods on this COVID-19 pandemic. Good news is that things are gradually returning to normal. Still can’t help but notice a sign that said at a truck stop

“Do not enter if you are infested with COVID-19.”

Like what are they going to do, drug test all the truckers before they can buy munchies and log books?

Don’t buy Milford Truck Stop Colombian Delite coffee before you turn in your pee cup. And flush the contaminated Snickers down the toilet after you’ve sat on the john after over-peeing.

Anyway, seen on a sign at The Bucket

“Do not enter and contaminate our guests if you have the runs.”

I know I wouldn’t want my Bucket Burger going through The Andromeda Strain because some senior citizens who live at Milford Senior Living Suites forgot to bring Geritol

 

“Gil, I thought we were going through the drive-thru.”

“Uhhhhhh, I want to talk to the manager and see if he will bend the rules on these Milford Children’s Meal tokens. They’re just a day late.”

Gil goes inside and ignores the sign and heads to the bathroom.

“Out of order?????? Because they have to refill the toilet paper dispenser?????? Sheesh!!!!!!”

 

Jane Fonda Workouts continue.

“I know of no other way to work those thighs then to have somebody shadowing your ass in the infield. You know we wouldn’t want Phoebe missing out on all the fun. There you go, stretch ’em ’til they hurt so that she can see the ball hit off the bat. It’s an injustice when  Carhee’s big butt is blocking any anticipation. Down to squat position, Mr. Carhee. You can squat and still hide your jock strap in the back.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Enquirer

“Jane Fonda’s Milford ‘Til It Hurts Video Shoot In The Girl’s Basketball Gym To Be Postponed So That Luhm Can Sandblast All The Old Chewing Gum Off The Floor!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Mimi Thorp: ‘Damn. And we had already ordered 300 placemats.”

 

And my favorite women’s college basketball coach said something once that knocked me to the floor. He was trying to get his team to play at a level that wins championships and you start with effort. Basically, his point was, if you’re gunning for something, we can’t just hand everybody a participation trophy and forget it.

Now don’t get me wrong, I respect Vince Lombardi but I despise what he says about playing in a rung below, say, the Super Bowl, is for losers and it’s the losers bowl. To me, if a kid gave me EVERYTHING, I shook his or her hand after the contest. There’s no sense in putting on somebody’s shoulders undue pressure if they are giving their best. And you’d be surprised how many championships get won that way.

That said, there is nothing wrong with striving for #1. One of my favorite Bible verses says “8 of us compete for a prize but only one will get that prize. Compete as if you were going to win that prize” In other words, if you’re up against Dominique Wilkins and Michael Jordan in a Slam Dunk contest, you still have to put your best foot forward.

 

But this is absurd. In this Circus Disguised As An Exhibition, everybody’s getting free trophies and pizzas and uniforms and catcher’s mitts. Nobody ever donated a catcher’s mitt when I was playing catcher in Slo-Pitch Softball. When’s the last time Marty Moon donated a catcher’s mitt to Gil because the Milford T-Ball League was victimized by embezzlemrnt by the League Recording Secretary? Would you pass the pepperoni? Sure, could you hand me that Lead Participant-Milford Bowling League Honor. It’s underneath the anchovies. And the Mike Piazza Dodger Blue Mitt is next to the Klondike bars in the freezer.

And one of my favorite authors, Herman Wouk, wrote “The City Boy” about a New York urbanite kid who hates going to camp, especially with these jocks he’s on bad terms with when school is in session. The camp is run by Mr. Gauss who is also Herbie’s principal during school.

And one day, their camp gets waxed by a rival camp, Camp Penobscot, Herbie’s jocks only able to do so much. Well, that night, Mr. Gauss tells the kids WE WON. No matter what the scoreboard said, and it was bad, WE WERE THE WINNERS.

This was called a Gaussian victory in the book. And this simpleton exchange of ideas between Milford and Valley Modified is one great big Thorpian Victory. No, really, Milford didn’t beat Valley Modified, team. We just didn’t score enough runs.

Well said, Mayor. Here’s some parmesan cheese to sprinkle on your Best Attitude in an Ass-Whupping Award. If that’s not Thorpian Victory, I’m Nick’s assistant driver.

 

If ya Turtle Wax yore Participation Trophy from the 3rd Grade Spelling Bee after ya went down in the second round cuz ya mispelled “glue” and didn’t know that they added an “e” after ya took Modern English at Milferd High School, ya might be a redneck.

 

“Next we’re going to aerobicize to UB40’s version of ‘Take Me Out To The Ballgame’. This is a lot of fun especially when you work out in blue jeans modeled after adjustable crescent wrenches. But the payoff is the lumbar liberation, especially when you don’t have to worry about any rips in the crotch when playing the short-hop.

And don’t you feel the love when your coccyx is comfortable to sit in a La-Z-Boy or you’re Gonzo Aceves crouching in an unnatural position because you’re usually on the mound pitching? I realize that may be Ardis Carhee because he’s sporting Valley Modified sportswear but this Musical Chairs Intended To Comfort The Hamstrings and Spinal Column is a real hit with my aerobicizers, especially with the older ladies at Milford Women’s Christian Temperance Union and as long as Ardis and Gonzo trade uniforms on the level and keep it private in the locker room, this workout can be a rewarding experience. A lot of wrenched backs occur when Grandma Moses and Granny Clampett try to execute Long Skirt Exchange in front of the Nick’s Pizza crowd. Not the kind of image Milford WCTU wants to portray. Gonzo and Ardis should not be negotiating bartering Fruit of the Looms in the eye of the public if they want true back masssges included in this workout.”

 

“Coach Thorp, is it true that you became a jarhead because you flunked the Algebra section of the ASVAB, getting your vectors confused as part of the Air Force Entrance Requirements?”

“You kids want to work on blocking out? Remember, your butt is a secret weapon on the rebound.”

 

Let’s just pile this on, why don’t we? In fact, why don’t we spot Valley Modified 20 runs since they were generous enough to dole out pizza to anyone who cared? I remember when I officiated with this official in feeder league basketball and this one team is smoking the other and it is a 50-point deficit (kid you not) at halftime.

Well, he comes up with this brilliant idea (notice sarcasm) to call all fouls on the team that’s winning and none on the team that’s losing, unless there’s blood. And any of you who have had kids in sports know that tough as it is not to say anything to an official, if an official HUSTLES, and studies his rule book and tries to be consistent, that is all we can reasonably ask. A good official will establish at the beginning of the game what a foul is, what traveling is, etc. Get control EARLY. Do NOT try to establish what a foul is in the 4th quarter. You’re going to have a time of it when it’s a free-for-all. So if you’ve established your fouls and violations and it’s smooth sailing THEN change the tune just because the game’s a blow-out, YOU WILL HEAR IT. FROM BOTH SIDES. And he said, well, they have to learn how to handle adversity in an enemy gym. THAT’S THEIR PROBLEM. Our job is to call what we see CONSISTENTLY for 4 quarters and establish our own careers. Sheesh.

So remember, when Milford is piling up the runs and it’s 46-21 (1 + the 20 you spotted them) , call all strikes on Milford even if they’re 3 feetcout of the strike zone and balls for Valley Modified, even if they’re at the heart of the dish. Hey, Milford might have to play The 75-and Over Champion at their place. They better learn how to weather the storm now. Tough crowd at Milford Senior Living.

And it’s not enough to let the pizza and cokes flow at this event, though it’s about the worst hare-brained at something called COMPETITION, not enough to hand out trophies out of Trix boxes, no, unless there’s blood, let Valley Modified rally so that they think they’re the Yankees. Hey, the dude with pony tail and shorts could be Lou Gehrig. Oh, he’s lucky all right. Iron Horse touring with The Mamas and The Papas. We can watch that after Milford snuffs this mock rally.

 

“And we’ll be back after these messages. By that time, Phoebe will be cuffed and charged with trespassing at a later date. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a?division of Learfield Sports.”

 

“Wasn’t it nice for Jane Fonda to practice good health habits at this friendly competition? C’mon, people, it’s not all beer and pretzels. And Milford Beverage Warehouse is out to back that up.

“If you come in and purchase a 30-pack of Busch Light, The Warehouse will give you absolutely free Jane Fonda and Mimi Thorp Aerobicize Your Butt Fat To Hooked On Classics. Now that’s what I call fun. Dancing to a disco version of ‘Beethovens Fifth’ and soaking down your fifth can, by God, my butt will be something to skateboard off of. I can just see Jane relaxing with a Busch after she stretched her gluteus maximus to ‘Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies’.

And for what you would spend at the barber to remove the unwanted hair from your chest, you can get a Maker’s Mark Whiskey in 740 ml AND Jane Fonda’s How To Sweat Off The Jack You Really Shouldn’t Have Consumed. It’s nice to know that if I overindulged, I can always pop in the video and get happy feet to “Sing, Sing, Sing”. I understand Benny Goodman danced with his clarinet after he got carried away with the bottle.

And you Bud Men out there aren’t going to walk away empty-handed, not on your life. For $13.49, you can get 12 oz in the 12 can variety and still indulge in Jane Fonda’s Ways To Country-Line Dance Your Bud Breath Away. I know I’ll be on the dance floor this Friday at The Warehouse. Flexing your mandibulars and fellowshipping  with your fellow Bud compatriots, Jane sure knows how to aerobicize and enjoy The Good Life

Come on down and get your own video and start dancing to these sweet deals and tell ’em Coach Thorp sent ya.”

Gang, you can’t have my Participation Trophy on the TWIM Site. Otherwise, you’re #1 with me. God bless you.

 

 

At Milford Lion’s Club meeting one night

“And the Participation Trophy in the Comic Strip Category of the Associated Press goes to Gil Thorp.”

You heard the applause

“Thank you. Golly, I don’t know what to say. I’ve never won at being mediocre before so you’ll have to let me catch my breath. Usually, I’m on the golf course so this coaching experience is totally new

The band hired for the event rips into “Layla”, ending the words of wisdom as every honoree is on a time limit, mediocre coaches included…

 

 

At the Milford Girls Gym with Eric Clapton’s “Tangled in Love” booming from a tape player

 

“Now don’t die on me, Dr. Pearl. You can work those core muscles in your biceps!!!!!!! Chop!!!!!! Chop!!!!!!!!!”

Dr..Pearl collapses and slips into a coma after attempting to extend her triceps and biceps while running in place in 3/4 time during Clapton’s silky guitar solo

Mimi is not discouraged

“Suck it in, girl!!!!!!!!! No guts, no glory!!!!!!!!!!!!”

July 1, 2020

How Long Before the Dancing Flash Mob?

gt07012020

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?

June 30, 2020

The Only One Who Has Delivered So Far Has Been The Domino’s Driver.

Filed under: Gil Thorp — tdrewhardin @ 8:38 am

 

Harry, soused with a couple of pepperonis and 10 Buds, begins the ritual at the 7th-inning stretch

ALL RIGHT YOU MUDLARKS LET ME HEAR YA GOOD AND LOUD

 

TAKE ME OUT TO THE PICNIC

TAKE ME OUT TO THE FOOD

BUY ME SOME THREE MEAT AND CRACKER JACK

I DON’T CARE IF WE EVER LOSE TRACK

SO IT’S ON AND ON FOR THIS CRAPPER

IF WE DON’T END, WHO’S TO BLAME

FOR IT’S ONE!!!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!

PLOT HAS STRUCK OUT AT THIS CRYING SHAME

 

LET’S GET SOME PIZZA!!!!!!!!!!!

 

When Spicoli got his pizza delivered at his charity event yesterday, I knew the plot was going to be stuck in neutral until, oh, the football season. Doesn’t look like Gil’s going to give one of his life’s lessons to some zit-infested teenager when addressing the ball at the Milford Country Club Golf Course. There still might be time at the end of the summer at the miniature golf course. Gil won’t have to reserve a tee time at Milford Links. He can teach a group of freshmen how to overcone adversity when negotiating your stroke through an opening in a windmill house that is steadily rotating its windmill blades. Just time your career path so that it won’t hit the rotor blade. You wouldn’t want your status as a lawyer or an engineer blocked because you didn’t line up the shot AND was caught off guard when the windmill swooped down. And at the hole, drive for show, putt for dough. You’ll pass more bar exams that way. Boom, you’ve two-putted and become just like Hadley Venom.

And let’s face it, as long as ‘Watha is chowing down on a chunka pizza in P1, I think it is safe to say that baseball is on hold for a while. Oh, good strategy, Mayor. When you’re getting your ass handed to you, well, you know the number of Milford Domino’s. While the Mudlarks are piling on the runs, you can stop the action and announce a temporary truce. And while the Mudlarks are innocently gobbling up the sausage and pan hand-tossed cheese-crusted pepperoni and side order of breadsticks combo, you can huddle your troops behind one of those mutant poplars and exhort “We got ’em where we want ’em. They score any more runs, they’ll be barfing up more pepperoni at home plate than Mimi’s team has ball games.” Sure, Mayor. If Johnny Bench in the forefront had consumed pizza box after pizza box, it might have turned the tide in the ’75 Series. No way was he throwing out Jim Rice or Fred Lynn trying to steal when he’s constipated. Trying to hit a home run while waiting for Luis Tiant to deliver a pitch from that forever-pace windmill windup while you’re pooping pepperoni? Easy dribbler to the first baseman. And don’t even talk about Carlton Fisk using body english when he was motioning his homer to go fair on a full stomach of strombolis and Canadian bacon. Yeah, sometimes pizza and baseball strategy can not only backfire but make strange bedfellows. Your own team proves that.

 

Oooooookkkkk, Gang, you’ve been good to me for over two years. This is the least I can do but I’m confident many of you will enjoy it. From another one of my favorite albums, Jimmy Buffett’s (yeah, I can see some of you putting on your grass skirts already) “License to Chill” (and #1, sweet, sweet)

 

Little roadside pickup game we artfully complain

‘Watha tells the zebra ump that this sideshow dies in vain

None of this falderol went according to design

Mayor lives his dream but to VM he’s still resigned

 

From the bottom of this bull

On the verge of this lampoonery

After one or two false starts

We still may never hit our stride

And the game that just won’t end

Heck, we can improvise or guess

Or artfully pray to get around

‘Cause I still got my own pride

From the bottom of this bull

 

And if you excise ‘Watha shamelessly devouring his Domino’s Pan Crust, WHAT could you point to that would indicate we’re at a ball game? Okay, the backstop but I could transplant that structure on American Bandstand promising the teeny bops that heartthrob Donny Osmond was going to sing a duet with Harry, getting the girlie-girls to faint on “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”. Just don’t blow the teenyboppers with your Bud breath, Harry. Later, both of them close the show with “Sweet and Innocent”, Mimi accompanying on the flute that’s part of the song. We naturally assume your 5-game softball season is over, Mimi. Tomorrow is July.

Really, the only thing missing in this crowd is Dick Clark. We don’t think he’s going to advertise DQ Burgers if the Domino’s dude is talking to one of the members of Fairport Convention. And Peter Brady showed up to disco and take in a game. So did Roy Clark in the background, only substitute “generic country tune” for “disco”. Shame, because you could insert this inanity on Hee Haw and tell everybody it’s a skit. Who would believe otherwise? Yeah, there’s Lulu coaching in the first base box. And Junior Samples lining the field before the game. Before he takes his position in centerfield. Yeah, Junior, you might want to shade that Mudlark a little left. He likes to pull. Then what are those kids doing here? Are they part of Pete and Pete? Remember that episode when Pete and Pete were trying to get the personal skinny on the ice cream man who frequented their neighborhood? And Michael Stipe of REM, who plays a fellow ice cream man, rebukes the kids by pointing out “He sells you ice cream at a cheap price. What more do you want?”

“Domino’s dude, do you use whips and chains on your wife?”

“Uhhhhhh, would you kids want another extra large pizza cookie? I got plenty of chocolate chip slices in the freezer bag. I brought plenty of dry ice so the chocolate chips won’t melt. You don’t want to get sick. You want to grow up big and strong.”

 

Today’s headline in the Milford Headline

“Coach Thorp Cited For Streaking At Milford Outdoor Amphitheater!!!!!!!!! Court Date To Be Determined Later!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

sub headline

“Just because I was wearing my grass skirt at a Buffett concert? Shoot, the only other time I wear it is at night when I’m in estrus with Mimi.”

 

We can’t see the future but beg it’s coming swift

It’s not hard to find yourself knee-deep in this BLEEP

It’s come a lot of Mondays since the exile on that day

Through months and trysts and protein fixtures, we wish this to be spayed

 

From the bottom of this swill

On the edge of all this Blarney

After one or two false starts

Whitewash this with cyanide

And the game that just won’t end

Heck, we can estimate or guess or simply fool around

‘Cause this ain’t got no pride

From the bottom of this swill

 

And Heather Burns Who Cops An Attitude Who Goes by the alternate Appellation, Corina, we know your outlike on life is testy but is there really any need to address Hiawatha James “The Other Catcher”? Thorpiverse finally admitted it in P1, this is nothing more than a scrimmage between the Hickory Huskers and the townies, Myra Fleenor officiating. At least we believe Myra will wear a powder blue shirt, not zebra stripes to confuse the townies. Anyway, Corina’s outlook on life got her with the townies when the fate of the gods was choosing up sides.

“Hey, Other Coach, as soon as you get done teaching the Milford Freshman Golf team that ‘Negotiating the ball across the bridge that shoots up periodically is like negotiating with the boss in a job interview, you might not get the job because he jumped up to wipe his crack in the bathroom after his hemorrhoids flared up’, how’s about a date. One of those restaurants that has no name that me and the girls always go to cooks a mean ravioli.”

Gil and Mimi tied the knot months later in a pledge of eternal bliss.

 

At the Milford Country Club bar, Gil during Karaoke Hour performing a classic Ray Parker, Jr., the Milford High School Honors Alto section and Milford High School Jazz Ensemble accompanying him

“I’m in love.”

I’M IN LOVE

“With the other principal.”

Doo doo. Doo doo DOO DOO DOO

“I’m in love…”

 

“Domino’s dude, do you wear a diaper when you crap your pants?”

“Uuuhhhhhh, You kids want some more pepperoni? There’s a couple more boxes and everybody else is headed towards the exits.”

 

If ya stop the Milford Conservation Club Turkey Shoot in the middle of nowhere at sum bare ground where they wuz once a fireplace and it’s still got sum loose beer cans roamin’ around th’ underbrush ta fellowship with sum rotgut and sum pepperoni pizza with pepperoni made from sum ostrich farm and ya gotta restack the sticks ta make another fire ta fire up th’ rotgut, ya might be a redneck.

 

These days baseball commences ’bout the time The Longest Day concludes

Making sense was once the deal, now we watch PizzaFest exude

Situation’s pointless and predictable unlike sports viewed in real life

But I’ll the fans and The Mayor, careful with that knife

 

From the bottom of this junk

On the edges of our sanity

After one or two false starts

This certainly isn’t bona fide

And the game that just won’t end

Heck, we can speculate or grope or find a way around the bend

‘Cause this stinks 6 feet wide

From the bottom of this junk

 

At the Milford Comedy Club one night

“…are you The Other Principal? And Dr. Pearl answered ‘What do I look like, Mr. Weatherbee who soaks his dentures in Palmolive’?”

Gil once again falls flat

The stereo system comes to life

“…with these changes in latitudes

Changes in attitudes

Nothing remains quite the same

 

With all of our running

And all of our cunning

We couldn’t laugh

This plot just went insane…”

 

And from the looks of P3, allow me to recreate a scene

“Hey, Other Coach, after you teach your charges that shooting through the cannon to make par is like when your house is on fire and you have to run through the spare shower where Granny uses Prell to get rid of the gray when she runs out of Grecian Formula and if you ignore the urine smell she leaves, you’ll shoot out of the house unscathed and your score will improve, how about a lunch date at Milford Denny’s? They have a pancake special that flattens The Bucket Breakfast Menu.”

“Other Softball Coach With A Fluffy Schedule, any way you can call me ‘Gil’?”

“Do I have to?”

 

Don’t you think that has possiblities? And this was before she got lavaliered.

 

“Domino’s dude, is it true you worked on the chain gang at Milford Correctional Center laying down rail for Milford & Oakwood and your present job is part of a Work Release Internship Program?”

“Uhhhhhhhhh, you kids want anymore breadsticks? They’re a little stale but it’s that or I’m going to give them to my bloodhounds.”

 

“And the party is well underway. I have a couple of Pepperoni/Hawaiian Pineapple under my microphone. We’ll be back after these messages with score, Milford, 8, Valley Modified, 0. This is Marty Moon and you’re listening to WDIG, a division of Learfield Sports.”

 

 

At Coach Shaw’s house at bedtime

“Honnnnnnnnneeeeeeyyyyyyy, it’s time to have some funnnnnnnnnnnnnn, it’s-”

Coach Shaw in the den with his Jazz guitar

“Darling, why are you wearing a grass skirt?”

“…dance to the left, dance to the right, cheeseburgers in paradise…

Oh hi, Mrs. Shaw. They’re having an audition for the upcoming Jimmy Buffett concert at Milford Outdoor Amphitheater and I want to put on my best front. You like it?”

“Honey, remove the apparel and let’s go to bed and make our own music.”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead letting Mr. Buffett see my Fruit of the Looms. There is such thing as decorum. You never saw Benjamin Franklin’s crack when he was making a speech up on the podium about hanging together or hanging seperately

“And any manual labor I’ve done is purely by mistake…

It’s my job

To be worried half to death

And that’s another

Reason to stick with Gil

It’s my job but without it

I’d be a pud

And permanently hiding in the trees”

 

“Honeyyyyyyyyyy, I’m sure Jimmy Buffett has seen holy underwear with semi-brown stains in the crotch. And I see it every night but I won’t dismiss you from the band.”

“I can never be too careful. If I can sound like Earl Klugh and stick some Renuzit down my Levi’s, I’ll bet Mr. Buffett will never sniff anything out

Wasting away again in Margaritaville

(Coach Shaw swaying back and forth in his skirt)

Searching for my lost shaker of salt

(Coach Shaw vigorously shaking his skirt, causing the ants to flee)

Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame but I know

(Coach Shaw executing Elvis the Pelvis thrusts with the skirt)

It’s my own damn fault”

(As skirt gracefully drops to the floor, exhibiting semi-brown stains previously discussed)

“I knew I shoild have used the staple gun. Those bobby pins couldn’t hold Gil’s jock together when he’s bowling.”

 

“I had more than malfunctioning grass skirts to worry about. My whim whim was hanging like some of the dead grass in the skirt. I had to own up and head to Milford Men’s Clinic. With excellent treatment programs meant to send your sex life into orbit, isn’t it time you had changes in attitudes? Don’t get callous in Dallas, do like Mr. Buffett said and get off of A-1-A and back on the mainstream to sexual performance. You won’t laugh, you will go insane with pleasure. Only at Milford Men’s Clinic.”

 

Gang, We had pizza AFTER the game was over but otherwise, you’re #1 in my book. God bless you.

 

 

Dick Clark on American Bandstand

“What did you think of this plot?”

“It stinks like rhino BLEEP and it doesn’t have a good beat. It’s got the rhythm of Dr. Pearl’s pacemaker. Definitely pisses in the wind.”

“Well, I appreciate your honesty. And we’ll be right back after these messages.”

To the producer

“I hope the censors caught that. I like to run a clean image on this show.”

 

 

 

“Coach Thorp, how did you comport yourself before you married Mimi? Did you hump your bed a lot?”

“Uhhhhhhhh, you kiddies want to practice your free throws some more? Remember, arch and a spin, go for the rim.”

 

 

 

 

June 29, 2020

Is There A Gluten Free Option?

Filed under: actual action, baseball, Exploding Eyeball Syndrome, softball, Valley Modified — nedryerson @ 5:44 am

This little game just keeps getting weirder and weirder. Big turnout, swapping players, lending equipment and now some cool dude in a van shows up with 20 pizzas. OMG, it’s the wackiest “game” we’ve ever seen.

This will be fun for the spectators. They can watch these kids eat. (I think that’s what’s missing in spectator sports today, meal breaks for the competitors.) I hope they have some tables and chairs. Some plates and napkins would be good too. If not hey can just spread twenty pizza boxes in the infield dirt and the teams can stand around eating pizza to the delight of the crowd.

June 27, 2020

It’s Different for Girls

gt06272020

As robmize and you faithful TWIMers pointed out yesterday, this turned into a farce pretty quickly. Players in jeans, an umpire in a zebra shirt, one team’s pitcher coming in to pitch for the other, and now this. Since story arcs always end on Saturdays, I was hoping for the ten-run mercy rule to be invoked today. No such luck; we’re gonna get dragged through this for at least another week.

Confession time: I have owned at one time both a baseball catcher’s mitt* and a softball catcher’s mitt. They are indeed two different creatures. I probably could’ve gotten away with using my regular fielder’s glove to catch softball and, eventually, I did, sending the softball mitt on to someone playing at a more competitive level than I.  Has it been that obvious that Lotus Cortina Anna Karenina has been catching with a softball catcher’s mitt? Click that last link and look at the ball in the pocket of her mitt. It’s proportionately large in there, innit? There was nothing to lead us to believe she wasn’t catching a baseball in that “softball trapper,” a term so loaded with innuendo I ain’t even gonna try to touch it.

 

*Two, actually. My first was an Howard Elston Elston Howard model, my second a Bob Boone.

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