Sit Down And Shut Up!

As I got up to grab some iced tea from the fridge (now a staple at Birdcage to cut down on Wendy's bills), the searing pain in my arms reminded me of something I forgot to mention in my previous post: the MOGpac's first appearance at the Tournament Of Champions dodgeball league.

I will keep the history and details about this event to a minimum, as I hope Mattagement (an organizing principle of MOG Athletics) will go into specifics about that here. But a few key observations:

- The MOGpac should probably spend weekends brushing up on their skills, as the team went one for five, despite a good showing during our warmup session outside MLK Jr. High School.

- A defensive/catching game is probably the way to go because, with few exceptions, we throw like girls. Sorry ladies.

- The MVP award for the day belongs to Charles LaBarbara, who went one-on-one against a chick and brought the MOGpac its only victory of the championship. The ref would take umbrage at Charles' name being used in the same sentence as MVP, but he's not here right now, so fuck it.

- The only team the 'pac beat has a player who the crowd referred to alternately as Tolkien or a Hobbit. I am not sure what this says about us.

- The "Nastiest Smack" award goes to Robin Emmet, who took one for the team square in the chest when she was the only one left on the court. Not even FJ's frequent spatula attacks could have prepared the poor girl for that hit, which resonated throughout the gym. While we lost that match, the hecklers booed the opposing team for beating up on a lone girl. Do moral victories exist in dodgeball?

- The MOGpac received its most savage beating at the hands of a team named after a Spinal Tap album. We hath smelt the glove, and the stench was foul.

- If you are a team of irate alpha males, calling yourselves the "Richard Ryders" is an unfortunate decision.

The good news is that we met a couple of other dodgeballers who were competing for the second time at the tournament, and their team made it to the playoffs after a one-and-five showing the month beforehand. Indeed, miracles do happen. Now all we need are t-shirts.