“Show me your Glory”, the sign said. This was some time ago - the LED beacons beamed their way into my retinas and planted the seed of greatness. “Show me your Glory”, Sports Cap’n said, “lest we become embittered old spinsters”. Perhaps that’s not a direct quote, but it held meaning. The seed was growing. 

A quorom arose to the challenge at 6pm. Nothing beat a rock. Literally. Home field advantage for the 4th game running. The seed was growing.

Feet of fury kicked the ballz regardless of its ultimate destination be it fair, foul, fowl, or fingers. They call ‘em Fingers but I never seen ‘em fing. We unlocked serious potential energy in projectile form. Sweet red rubber projectiles. We ran the hell out of the dirt. We survived billowing sandstorms and sporty opponents. We got more positive enjoyment per square inch than the opponent. In a word… Brownness. We dominated the brownness indicators, with our brownness decisively turned up to 11. Belligerence, a theory long lost to the likes of Drunken Master, was back on tap with an incredibly complex flavor and tasty kick. Everyone won the fun.

MVP goes to all players’ hands. Multiple cooperative catches off one to another to prove we put the WE in TEAM. Multiple 1-2 combo punch kicks. LVP goes to all players’ hands. Multiple cooperative dropped balls. Multiple slowy throwy patheticos. Our defense proved to have what our offense did. That is to say, sports glory. MWP (Most Wounded Player) goes to Rhoda Stallion, though an honorary mention goes out to Rabbit Child. Bactine for everyone! 

he season opener began with an incredible full-team press (literally) at the fantastic folks at Stroker Ace Printing. They managed to turn around the awesomeness of our brownest of the brown Sports Glory shirts in record time, beating their own minimum production calendar & finishing up with the last of the shirts just an hour before the game.

Arriving at Transformer Field #2 at 6pm for Operation: Portagrill MeatTube was a success, with sports team members and fans alike coming from miles around to witness the firey glory of portagrill as it seared & sizzled the mystery out of the meat tubes. 

Thanks in part to Operation: Portagrill MeatTube, Team Sports Glory Team had the intestinal fortitude to harness their combined powers and transform into one massive constructicon-esque multi-robot giant robot of feet robots which ground opposing team Red Rockets into submission. MVP was #12 - Twenty One, with his steel pistoned steam roller Home Run of doom in record time, allowing for perhaps 6 bases to be run had he wanted it. MWTFP was Aptimus Prime for his illusion of two Home Runs which was later determined to be one Home Run and one Out due to Missing of the 2nd Base thanks to the fact that our bases mysteriously transformed from non-regulation tee cones into cheapo non-regulation flexi-bases mid-game. I’ll show YOU feet on base! All your base are belong to suck!