Softball playoffs last night meant one thing – a chance to put a cheap, shitty trophy in our watering hole. Since 2003, we have been the recipients of one second place and two third place kind of cheap, fake gold awards. What would our chances boil down to? Like every week – how bad was the other team playing that night?
We won the first game in dramatic fashion and our one fan/teammate’s girlfriend seemed almost as excited as us (not very). We had a chance for it all and prepared vigorously by drinking beer in the parking lot. Upon returning, an observation was made. First, the worst team in the playoffs was up 17 runs after four innings. Strange…it seems some of their players aren’t wearing jerseys or team shirts… Ringers! Although against the rules, teams always load up for the post-season and enforcement works about as well border patrol in this country would if we gave our agents unicycles.
Well, there was no drama. We got our asses kicked, which means no magic 1st place obelisk will stand in the dark corner behind the pool table…but a smaller and almost as useless second place one will! I then forgot about the team photo in my rush to get to the bar ahead of everyone, so no record exists of me being on this legendary crew of softball heroes. Oh well, at least I can take away one important thing from this season. I didn’t tear my hamstring, and that’s all that really matters.
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