Fin?

Welp – that’s a wrap on the season, y’all. Despite our best efforts at getting younger and healthier and millennial-er through recruitment (Hi Froggy, Biggie and Armsy), this season really exposed the Hammers’ collective age and fragility and bone density and muscle resilience and immune system and professional/parental responsibility issues (Hi everybody else). Thus, we limped to the finish line, grumbling about phantom foul calls and dumb rules and lack of respect and flavoured water and weird new-fangled gadgets and young punks on our lawns. But, fuck it, we still competed and cheered and chased it all with celebratory post-game beers and grease. I still love it.

So, we lost last night. But goddamn it was close – we came within seconds of overcoming a few weird calls and a six-point deficit in the second half. The turning point had to be the arrival of our now not-so-secret-weapon Greg, who managed to sneak undefended into the end zone for a few easy ones. Down by one on the line, awaiting pull, the surging Hammers were shocked to hear our green opponents (CLEARLY SCARED SHITLESS), call the game. It was a disappointing loss, technically, but an incredibly satisfying moral victory.

Holy shit, the highlights. There were so many. Once we broke that cup, the Gregor to Captain to Wheeler to Honey to Biggie to Bunny to Cruddick daisy chain* was a thing of beauty to behold. I think we pulled that off four or five times. As for the specifics, please behold this series of images and GIFs, representing how I will hitherto recall these events:

Honey (Lebron)’s Official Bag of Hammers PLAY OF THE YEAR, OMFG!

Cruddick lays out!

Bunny takes out a week of work frustrations on the disk with a raging celebration!

AA and Biggie’s near miss!

The time that dude on the other team absolutely decimated his female teammate in the endzone!

Their Littlefinger-esque captain was shaken:

The Armview Crazy-Ass Feature Burger with Kettle Chips and Weird Cheese (that nobody ordered) Player of the Game is Gregor for the stellar handling all night (heck, all season). And for having the balls to call that guy NOT IN, mere moments after calmly picking up his own incomplete pass to continue the play. Brass ones :)

But THIS CAN’T BE IT. Captain has circulated an email proposing a date of 1-Oct for our end-of-year BBQ. Let’s do this.

I miss you already,
-AA
xo

*may not be appropriate metaphor

Can you hear the thunder?

That's the sound of the Hammers coming for you Sharky, and/or the sound of crappy English heavy metal.  Luckily the literal thunder (both the weather and hard rock varieties) stayed away and we were merely subjected to oppressive humidity.   The metaphorical thunder on the other hand was very much present. We were awesome. That's pretty much it. Offense - check. Defense - check. Face catches, dolphin catches, and reach around catches - sadly lacking. Actual catches,  great cuts,  passes that went to intended targets, and points - check check check and 12x check. We didn't quite finish them on points (sorry Armsy!) but we did dominate and played very well as a team.  And Greg got a point.  And as always it was a very enjoyable and relaxed game against Sharky and crew.

Now, on to more serious matters. I'd like to take a minute and talk about pets and how they are trying to kill us all. I submit exhibit A:

Recently, one of our very own was stricken with mono, putting his poor, helpless spleen in grave danger:

My knowledge of anatomy is pretty much limited to things on the outside, but I'm 90% sure AA's spleen is the blue one.

Some will have you believe mono is caused by a virus, some will tell you it is called "Epstein-Barr", and some will say it can be cured by modern medicine.  I tell you they are all wrong.  Think about the symptoms: fatigue, lethargy, weakness.  Who else displays all these traits on a daily basis?  That's right, THE COMMON HOUSE-CAT.

I'm cute, I'm lazy, and I'm gonna PUT YOU TO SLEEP bitches!!!

AA may have been concerned about spreading this "virus" to family and pets, but he got it wrong.  It's the pets trying to turn us all into a bunch of feckless, lazy bums.  If they had their way, we'd all be draped over our desks at work, limbs dangling, only changing position to lick our own asses and chase bugs.  Not a bad life (except the hairballs of course), but still, I would prefer not to have to use the washroom in a box of gravel.

Point is, keep an eye on those furry bastards, and keep your spleens covered!

What cats dream about - straight shot to the spleen!