"E-gads my fine lads!"

Saturday, May 3, 2008

by Herbman Mel-ill

"The sea was angy that day, mine fine compatriots. The sky was slate gray and hung low with great ominousisity of terrible things. The wind, such a wind! blew outward blowing cold and raw towards the Barbary Coast, aye, and then--oh! heavens! Quiet all, here they come now."

The doors of the Shannon Pot creaked open as Bizman Allah, Emily and Rambo GumBigPelfmusyan made their way into its cozy confines, thirsty for a refreshing beer.

And why shouldn't they be? Is there a heartier thrill than to be outside on a most-Nautical day, Whisky Wind blowing in from the east under the banner of stickball heaven? That first sip becomes most well-earned and most well-appreciated. Stickball heaven has been talked about before, could there be nothing closer to it than a perfectly-sized yard within a bizonga of Manhattan near almost every train in the system and nearer still to the surliest of surly irish bars? Yessir.

If only they played the stickball to match. Ryan's and Bizman's towering home runs and Emily's most-impressive power debut were the only highlights in an error-marred 8-4 win for the Almighty Biz.

Game 2 featured the lowest of the lowlights as Rambo's dumb decision to carry the bat with him as he ran resulted in an injury to Dice's hands, which are insured by Lloyd's of London and Yogi's of the Upper Worst Side, in an 8-2 victory for the bearded Mike Pelfrey imitator.

Two awards may have been locked up on this day, the Pawl Wall Daffy Duck fawl bawl award to rambo for his left-of-kucinich drives and the Stickball Lady of the Year award to Emily for her swiftly amassed collection of doubles.

Faith, my friends, in our fielding. If we can clasp our hands around pints and guzzle down then we may yet clamp our hands successfully around that infernal tennis ball.

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