It was all a blur: of headbands and earrings, sod and weeds,
blinding sun and gusty wind, hats and beards, innuendos and threats, picks and
fouls, and so on and so forth. Individual points seemingly dragged on for
hours; whereas the game itself flew by in a flash. And when it was over, there
we were, again, on the losing end. *womp*
But we. Were. So. Close.
Indeed, we had a FULL showing last night, with two complete lines
worth of runners – which we dutifully split into (i) the offensive juggernaut
of Line A; and (ii) with all due respect to my line-mates, the defensive dinghy
of Line B. Led by Coach Dan, Line A went to work scoring the bulk (all?) of our
points, with solid contributions from the coordinated white hats of Team Allen
(hitherto referred to as Honey and Bunny), and the tireless cutting and
catching of Tim and Sauce and Partner and Nick. Conversely, despite our best
efforts, and the solid handling of Captain and Sally, and the impressively
aggressive defense from Greg/Anne, Line B was not able to overcome my wobbly
errant passes to the continuously cutting Punter and Cruddick and Pelch, nor my
ability to effectively cover a 6-ft sprinting weregazelle. I apologize, humbly
and sincerely.
As far as the competition goes, the 2015 HURL Thursday Draft
Team (“Chilly”?) were an odd mix of decent to superior players, with a mere dash
of incompetence and a general unfamiliarly with The Rules Of The Game. Of
course, this latter point did nothing to dissuade their persistent calling of
picks and fouls (from the sidelines!), leading to many awkward “so… what do we
do now?” situations, which grew from amusing to aggravating to *face-palm*
in quick succession. On occasion, Line B was tempted to call retaliatory “travels”
on a few Chilly folks who refused to plant a pivot foot, but, in what would be
a lesson to our picky/prickly opponents, we withheld – mainly because we had no
idea what the subsequent action would look like. And for this I smugly award us
an additional five spirit points (Becky, make it so!).
Oh, and I accidentally threw the disk into some guy’s balls
from close range.
The Prospector’s Pub Gross Comp Nachos Players Of The Game
award goes to Cynthia/Honey for all the cutting, scoring and defending (it was
great!) and to Nick/Glutes for his ability to break coverage last night (on two
bloody stumps for feet, nonetheless) and get so many looks in the end zone. IN
NO WAY SHOULD THIS BE INTERPRETED AS A BACKHANDED COMPLIMENT!
Random quotes:
- “He gets the Woody of the Game!” “Speak for yourself”
- “Everything is *this* small when it’s 7-degrees out”
- “I’d like to go drop kick that one right in the fucking face”
- “This tastes like a urinal puck smells”
- “Jesus, Aaron, stop talking”
(Feel free to add more in the comments, folks. I found myself
chuckling through most of the game and the post-game, but now I can’t recall
most of the good ones… dammit!)
Thanks, team – see y’all next week!
-Aaron
2 comments:
tee hee. Nice work AA. I enjoyed the random phrases at the end. I also recall something about "just the tip" but not enough to quote it properly.
Cruddick - how was your night? I hope the wings didn't come back to bite you.
I've had better sleeps. Next time one pound of wings will suffice.
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