So those guys were a bunch of bunts.
You could tell they were bunts because their vaginas were showing.
See what I'm doing there, I'm using the word bunt as a euphemism or replacement for the "c" word dudes aren't allowed to say unless they are British (dude, Brits get away with everything!) or Louie CK (dude, Louie CK gets away with everything!).
Seriously though, three dude bunts in the same game. All the dudes could kick really well too. I mean one dude was dressed completely in black, including his leggings (maybe they were jeggings) and his wide receiver's gloves for successfully catching 70 MPR rockets thrown by Peyton Manning (RIP, Peyton's Football Career / Welcome to the world, Peyton's NBC sitcom that will almost definitely be green lit within two years), or kicks kicked by kickers on Kick James (Still talking about the gloves). Seriously that guy looked like he was ready to play in an arena football league, perform parkour, or fight a bunch of other super scrawny and bunting ninjas. If they would have just nailed the ball, like the ladies on their team, they might not have lost.
BUT THEY DID!!!! KICK JAMES IS STILL UNDEFEATED 3-0!!!
Final Score: Kick James 6, Salinjerks - 5.
They really lived up to their name, as they were a bunch of Sally's.
MVP Award is tough today... let's look at some of the highlights, shall we.
Yes, we shall.
We've (and by we I mean I) picked no Timmy quite a bit for his sexist fielding practices. None effected more by Timmy's natural magnetism to the kickball than Shelley. Not today my friends... First, from the mound, Shelley pulls off some reverse sexism by fielding the ball cleanly, turning to second where Amelia, firmly planted on the bag, had her anxious, yet prepared hands waiting for the throw and the force out, (yes folks, this is another run-on sentence, try to keep up, we're still talking about Shelley fielding the ball and turning to make the play at second), but instead of the 6 foot toss to Amelia's ready hands, Shelley tossed the ball 5 feet to Sandy who was 8 feet away from the bag. Sandy, with his quick feet and excellent hugs, made the play cleanly, but not before Susan B. Anthony turned over in her grave.
Having an intense and almost hyper-sexual connection to Ms. B. Anthony, Shelley tried to redeem herself and the women who suffered for suffrage when a high fly ball was kicked to right center field. A conversation had been conversed, and it went something like this.
Timmy: "Shelley, I'm going to catch all the balls that come near you."
Shelley: "Okay."
But Shelley is a liar! The ball, soaring majestically through the air reminding me of Pearson's Apollo Creed shorts, approached Shelley at the same pace as Timmy, who was prepared for the catch. But with a firm and confident last minute "I got it!" Timmy knew what to do. A quick tuck, a quiet roll, and Timmy was on the ground, fetal position, fearing the wrath of Piles. It was unnecessary as Shelley caught the ball with ease, threw it to the pitcher and said. "Take that mother fucker!" (I assume).
Sweeney, after admittedly taking it easy in his Kick James premier, stepped up to the plate both literally and figuratively. He kicked the ball, quite well, three times, and caught everything that came near him... and got there early... and drank a bunch... and brought Katie... and might just be ready to start hugging me.
Former MVP Jim chose his children's health and well being over Kick James (MVP Revoked?), so his younger more present brothers Brian "Brian" and Dave "we need to come up with a nickname for Dave" rose to the occasion. Dave's unsure stutter steps are just a distraction and diversion to make the other team and myself think there is no way he is going to catch the ball, when in fact he catches everything. Brian brought the hustle and his typical good form, sliding, Pete Rose style, head first and completely unnecessarily with a gambling problem into second base. Filthing up his shirt and proving his dedication to the team and love of attention rivaled only by my own. (look at me look at me, I write a blog... what a dick that Chew guy is).
In his Kick James debut, Pearson showed off some leg in the aforementioned American flag shorts, and his uncanny ability to catch a ball that is kicked directly to him. On the shorts Dan was fakely quoted as saying, "I spend so much time wiping my ass with various American Flags that I figured I should just cut one up, burn the scraps, and make it into a pair of shorts." Who needs patriotism when you have well supported testicles and warm thighs?
PJ recorded his first RKI, but still didn't play the field, I don't think. Not mad about it, I'm just happy he's there.
The bunt taunting had the Jerks a little agitated. I don't think they had ever encountered a team that was so good, but cared so little. (Except for Jesse). They managed to fight back and tie the game up at five going into the last inning. It was a hard thing to watch, but the infield did their job, excellent catches by Sandy and Timmy, I think, I don't know I wasn't paying attention because my heart wasn't beating like a normal person's.
The ample crowd waited with bated breath. The Collins brothers sat in silence, probably holding hands with each other. Alyssa just looked really cold. Heidi and Katie looked ready for an 80's style street fight in their head to toe black leotards (I assume that's what you were both wearing, I don't remember). Gabe was also there, I don't think he did anything though.
Bottom of the seventh. Jesse "subdued rage" has the opportunity for glory and immortality. Should he kick for another home run, or should he play it safe. Or should he do a crazy well placed kick just through the infield and get on base... yeah the last one, he should have done the last one. Good job Jesse.
Ashley advances the runner... that's just what she does. Clutch team player Ashley. Thank you for letting me steal and hand out what was left of your beers at the end of the day. The cooler wasn't directly in my line of sight and I'm pretty lazy.
Up comes Billiam Ford. Known more for his supple hands and ability to deliver children than his perfect kickball placement, Fordy made the split second decision not to light his cigarette. Instead he quietly walked to home plate. He looked the pitcher in the eyes. Called her a bunt (it was inappropriate) under his breath, and ripped an walk-off RBI game winning single. I think I forgot to hug him.
Everyone sighed with relief. Phil peed a little bit. Lizz (Phil's sister), though not present, almost certainly felt the relief and joy of the win and probably said something like, "Hmm, it's chilly in here."
So we won. Entirely a team effort. Everyone did really well. It got a little intense and our normal team inspired boner inducing energy wasn't quite there, (not enough hugging), but on a scale of one to Kick James, we were still totally a 9.5 and the other team was jealous of our raw sexuality and intense knowledge of Star Wars and romantic comedies.
So now, on to the MVP... This week, the I'm Kick James MVP line in the blog goes to the team lap and team stretches. It was really cold out there yesterday, and if not for the lap and the stretching, we would have all surely died a painful and horrible frost bite/tendonitis related death. Even those who showed up a little late were sure to stretch it out, and without that dedication to our personal health and well being, the entire team could have caught the bubonic plague or been chased down by rabid badgers... who knows what could have happened. All I know is that it didn't happen. It didn't happen, not because those scenarios are stupid and ridiculous, but because we were prepared. Limber. Loose. Languid. Loquacious. Lithe. L-Awesome.
We definitely weren't a bunch of bunts.
I'm Kick James and I might just be a great kickball team.
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