a glamour shot it ain’t.  We’d all benefit from a bit of soft focus and some nicely tilted head on hand posing.  Yet it does sum up the sports glory of Team Sports Glory Team and their mad grilling skillz.

While they have yet to sponsor us, I think we should still be sure all team members who need external hard drives buy this one. Behold, the Enermax Glory

Once again TSGT reigns victorious with an early win to kick first and a soon after ball-camera-face incident that left Sports Cap’n incapacitated & bloody until his first at bat (bunt single plus eventual run).  Go Sports Resilience!

Bloody cap’n aside, it is presumed that some manner of kickball was executed during Sports Cap’n’s less woozy portions of the evenings. From Cap’n’s best recollections, there were several 6-run bunt home runs as well as at least 3-4 RBI pop flies.  Plus team brown.  Either way, I’m sure we won with points.

“90% of hitting is mental. The other half is physical.”

“There’s always a winner and a loser, and both should enjoy the game.”
“Everybody loves a good sport”

the looming sky offered lures of freedom from kickball repetition oppression.  Working in the kickball mines, chipping away endlessly with pick and mattock, seeking the eternally elusive red diamond sphere.  rain pouring down on torn, beaten players.  would we instead watch tv on dr. rockplex?  Or punch Mr Mother Nature in the cumulonimbus sphincter with toes of fury?

Rain brought damp clamminess.  Sports Capn brought a secret baggy of raw turkey in his pocket the entire game yet received no ancient turkey spirit guide wisdom.  No mystic kindred totem for us this day except that of the cosmic 0-ness.  What is it to be utterly without positive or negative motivation?  To be in utter prysmic balance? No obligation to win or lose.  That is what it is to trancscend kickball to a plane in which runs occur despite outs.  solidarity occurs through belligerence.  And april showers bring may flowers.  In June.

After an exhaustive retrofit of Sports Cap’ns Portacabin™, Sports Cap’n quickly realize that Portagrill™ Mark 1 was not lost but in fact simply placed in storage for the duration of its winter hideaway at the State Fairgrounds.  

Its exceptional return was heralded by none but Sports Cap’n himself, a happy dance shortly thereafter ensued.

The arrival was on target.  Portagrill mark 2 has arrived, in all its multipieced glory, to replace that great propane meat-tube scalder in the sky, Portagrill.  The construction and related merriment was exeptionally well executed.  The menards lady clearly had recommended a Portagrill to be reckoned with.  A portagrill without propane.  A Portagrill of suck.  Portagrill Mark 2 was clearly an imposter infiltrating infidel which sought to undermine our unity from the meaty core.  Yet memory served that Portagrill may be redeeemed by the corner of 38th and Chicago via Cup Foods or its mighty Super American Brethren.  

Super America brought the grill in a bag to the game this time in under 10 minutes.  With it, the ability to burn sausages and make grilling interweave with playing and/or fielding.  Lo, the cheddarwurst did know what it was to be roasted in the depths of the Sloar that day, I can tell you.

Spontaneous match light charcoals aside, portagrill 2 really sucked for what we wanted.  Where is portagrill mark 1?  Help me Obi Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope!

The plan is clear. This year we will establish a complete dominance over all things inverse win and/or blatantky incomprehensible drump. If we can destroy the league in Runs Against, we will destroy the validity of Runs For, thereby achieving a complete union of victory and defeat. Kick backwards yet forwards. Upwards not backwards, and ever twirling, twirling towards freedom. Team Sports Glory Team clearly knows what it takes to run the bases without fear of winning or losing!

NAGMA offered fair play and shiny jerseys to the fray in this no-holds-barred kickball match involving not one but two teams hellbent on foot-driven dominance.  While TSGT brought vigor, chutzpah, and pure smite-factor, they forgot to bring the cohesive sports net required to effectively quarantine in humanitarian fashion.  

Thus fingers were in but hands were not; the forest contained no trees.  The win was inverse.