Rookies vrs Diablitlos and Renegades: Booty Shorts and Titty Twisters

Holy softBALLS it was cold today, and the wind was blowing directly out of the Cold Miser's asshole. The patch of skin below my bottom lip is chapped, and I am still chewing grit six hours after the last game ended. Steve Herrick showed up in shorts, and I thought we were going to have to rub Scottie's legs together to get a fire going to stave off hypothermia.

Despite playing in near arctic conditions with siroccos wheeling across the field as if we were in Iraq instead of Red Hook, the games were a blast.

The first gay(me) was against the Diablitos (please refer to my previous blog post about our match up against them and Captain Prison Porn). Today...the Diablitos got their ASSES handed to them. While Captain Prison Porn was still smacking balls this way and that, by the end of the third inning, the lead was 11-4 Rookies. On the way to the field, I'd found an old kung-fu grip GI Joe in the tall grass. I set up this little butch dude as our mascot by attaching him to the fence in our dug out. I attribute his mystical powers with sapping the Diablitos of their strength. That and they only had nine players and were missing at least one of their super stars.

That didn't stop Captain Prison Porn from sliding on his side across half of the outfield to catch a fly ball, which he did, and which caused Scottie's booty to vibrate, and Noah's shaved head turned bright red sort of like one of those blue nosed baboons butt's when its horny.

Later, in the second game, Roy decided to try to pull the same maneuver but since his legs had frozen into ice blocks, he just fell over. Noah's head turned as green as Joe's 1982 windbreaker that he obviously stole from the costume closet from the set of Breakin' Two: Electric Boogaloo.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

The first game saw two amazing double plays starring Mason and Vinnie, but the true star of the show was Antony the Straight who, in the first game, and his first time ever pitching, struck out four, count 'em, four people on his own. There is a Rookie's tradition that when you strike someone out, you get a titty twister from someone in the infield. By the end of the first game Antony's name had been changed to Purple Nurple, and Reggie was screaming, "KEENEY WHO?" (for you lay people, Scott Keeney is our regular pitcher who happens to be sunning it up on the island of Elba for the next three weeks...I'd like to wish him safe travels, but I am too bitter and jealous to do that).

What? What?

The final score of the first game was something like 16 to 8 or around that mark. The Diablitos got the butt whoopin' they deserved for having half their team being fresh from the Mets training camp.

Werq!!!

The second game was not as pretty. And by not pretty, reverse the score I just mentioned, then halve our runs and double theirs and you will have something around what the final score was.

The highlight of the second game was when dear Scottie, who, when there isn't an Ice Age forming above the fields, wears some booty shorts that gets my bait and tackle doing a little samba in my britches. During the first game, he was a demure princess and kept his sweat pants on (though strategically hiked up to show a little ankle), but since we were playing the number one ranked team for the second game, we had to pull out the secret weapon: Scottie's pert little boogina.

One of the many reasons that I adore Scottie is that he knows how to work his ASSets and is proud of it. First he strips down to his black boxer briefs that leave little to imagination and let's everyone know the exact shape and shade of his religion. Then he puts on his poom poom shorts, followed by the "bend and snap," and then tops it off with a ho stroll.

Then someone has the brilliant idea to have Scottie trot out and fetch the bat from whomever had just run to first base. I didn't notice who it was since I was too busy oogling the team goodies. Not only did Scottie get the bat, but also he got a NINE bat salute from the opposing team, if you know what I mean. The pitcher's jaw dropped so hard and fast that it left a crater in the dirt, and I doubled over laughing so hard that I farted.

It was AWWWWWEESSSOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMEEEEE!

In the end, though we lost our second game in points, we won it in style and sass. At one point Reggie was channeling Suzanne Sugarbaker and was twirling a bat like she was in the Miss Georgia pageant, and though the lights stayed on in Georgia, the spirits were way up in Red Hook.

Thanks for an AWESOME round of games Rookies. See you next week.

The Homerun That Almost Wasn't: Rookies vrs Renegades

So, this past weekend, we played our last games of the regular softball season. Let me tell you, this summer has seemed to sprint by. It has been as if Lady Summer got up on some methamphetamine, smoked some crack, and shoved some speed up her butt while riding the Energizer Bunny across the last few months. It's seems only the day before the day before the day before yesterday that I was on a cold Astroturf field in Chelsea, in 55 degree weather, freezing my ass off, trying to pitch a ball with frozen fingers (and testicles) during softball try outs. Now, it's hotter and wetter than Carnie Wilson's coochie up in here, the softball season is over, and we are staring down the sweaty throat of the playoffs.

We ended the season with a whimper...then a KABOOOOOOOM!

The first game was about as special needs as it could get. First of all, my arm seemed to have decided that it didn't give a fuck what my brain was telling it to do. It was going to throw the damn ball wherever the hell it wanted to throw the damn ball. I tried chanting on the pitcher's mound, I called up my ancestors, I invoked the Spirit of God, and my hand flipped me the bird and pitched the ball to center field. Thank GOD Reggie pulled my ass off the mound. After doing a great infield shuffle, I ended up spending the rest of the first inning at first base (foolishness).

Fairly quickly Reggie realized his mistake by putting me on first. I was then banished to right field. The Renegades saw a weakness..and to their credit I did miss two balls that they smacked out my way. The third ball, however, and I caught and they learned some respect (though it was temporary).

The Renegades are a very good team, and they are a sweet team. They don't give attitude, they smile when they are beating us, and have almost as much fun as we do. I like them.

After one particularly terrible inning, we found ourselves down by seven runs. Thank GOD Mason showed up. I like when Mason gets real angry (but not at me....ooooooooooooo not at me)...and after they tried pullin' some shenanigans...all of a sudden Mason was flipping and rolling on the ground, catching balls like they were flying at him off the Rock (God Bless Dwayne Johnson's fine ass).

It was during the first game, that I hit the home run that almost wasn't. I got up to bat, and I smacked the ball all extra hard. I was sure one of the bionic bitches in the outfield was going to catch it...but they pulled a me...it hit the tip of some one's glove and kept going...and so did I. I ran right up to and OVER first base without touching it. I realized my mistake and tried to run back, but Mason started screaming for me to run. Now, Mason is possible the God of Softball, and he knows all the rules, so I thought...damn maybe there is some special rule that you don't actually have to touch 1st base, so I kept on running. I got to third and started to slow down, and Reggie almost punched me in the face. I kept going and basically danced around the catcher to make it home. Thank GOD no one from the Renegades saw that I had missed first. The next pitch went and it was a moot point. The run stood, and I was a lucky mo fo.

The second game was magical. Everyone on our team was doing their thing. Mason was killing it in the outfield. Lenny pulled some magic in the in field. Scott was pitching fire and struck out MULTIPLE people. And Steve Herrick was doing some Go Go Gadget bullshit in the outfield and was making my penis get mightily erect. Of course, every one's favorite heterosexual ANThony...was doing it to it too. And....lo and behold by the Grace of Softball God (Mason), we BEAT THE RENEGADES!


Miss Reggie walks over and lets us know that we, by winning, kept the Renegades out of 1st place in our division. For about the time it takes for a neutrino to burst into and out of existence I felt badly...between the Renegades the the D!cks...I mean Demons, I would much rather the Renegades win. Of course...I would much rather US win most of all, and I take the win with a smile and a giggle.

In the end we had a blast, we played well, and it was so hot that soul got a sunburn (and so did Vinnie cuz the punk wouldn't put on sunscreen when I told him to do so).

I sure do hope we play fall ball.

Rookies vrs. Renegade

Another week has gone by, which means more softball shennanigans. For the previous two weeks, we played at Red Hook fields in Brooklyn...just past the Ikea. This week, we were at new fields on Randall's Island. For those of you kiddies that have not lived or spent oodles of time in New York, there are several islands in between Manhattan and the outer boroughs.Most folks know of Roosevelt Island...but...much to my suprise...there are three or four other islands out there.

Today we happened to be playing on Randall's Island...which...is largely covered by sports fields, a soccer arena, Cirque du Soleil, and a giant mental hospital. Fun!It's nice to know that if anyone on the team has a break with reality during a game on Randall's Island, help is just a bus stop away.

...David and I managed to get slightly lost on the way to the fields today. The fields were tucked away on one end of the island between a tributary to the East River and under the Triboro bridge (more or less). But, thanks to quick action by the team, Josh found David and I walking under a bridge and drove us to the field.

So, to summarize our games today...we got lightly spanked the first game. The second game we got our asses cut off, deep fried, sprinkled in powdered sugar, and handed back to us with a nice honey glaze.
Here's what happened.

So, to begin with, I pitched 14 innings today. I am proud to say that not only did I walk only 3 people (should have been a couple more...but the Renegades were swinging at some crappy stuff...but I thank them for their generosity). I also managed to strike out the pitcher from the other team. I often target the pitcher from the opposing team, as I feel that I should have a rivalry with that person. If this were 1765, I would have walked up to him, slapped him with my glove, and then had a duel with sabers. But, since running the opposin' teams pitcher through the heart is illegal in the state of New York, I was satisfied with when I struck him out. Of course, I walked the next batter up at bat...but we are going to focus on the positive.

I also managed to whack the ball well one time, which earned us two runs...and...at one point...I was supposed to run from 2nd to 3rd...got halfway to 3rd...turned around and ran back to 2nd...only to see Dan comin' into 2nd...at which point I ran back to 3rd...which totally freaked out the 3rd baseman from the Renegades, who was so discombobulated that he tossed the ball to 2nd...Dan was safe, I made it to 3rd, and I ultimately scored. Talk about dumb ass luck.

Of course, Her Softball Majesty, Mason Regina, First of her Name, pulled the play of the day when he caught the ball while falling down...and ended up on his rear (which we all saw later on as he was changing his pants...and...from the rest of us to you...NICE BUTTOCKS!).

Vinny did some great outfield magic, and, of course Noahngelina and "Dan not David" also pulled some magic out of their hats for us. I won't mention out loud the fact that in the first inning of the second game the Renegades went through their line up two and a half times before we got our first at bat...as if I mentioned that in my blog Reggie threatened to do unnatural things to me.

The real highlight of the day came when Mr. Big Daddy Hot Crotch came marching up the road behind our field. Our entire dugout got whiplash checking the man out. He was well over six foot, had broad shoulders, a neatly trimmed beard, a bubble butt, and he walked like he had a big thick juicy veiny 11" penis. I heard the anal lips of half the team smacking and clapping through their shorts.

David was the only softball spouse with us today, but he was faithful again...making sure the Icy Hot and snacks were at the ready. And he is responsible for the fabulous pictures on this blog.
I will end this posting by saying that Mason told me that I did a good job today, which is like the Pope telling you that you are a good Catholic. Thanks Mason ;-). Until next week!