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.

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!

After some glorious umping and other such chaos at 7pm, Team Sports Glory Team trampled the field with their magnificence and pulled out an 11-2 victory in the 2006 season opener. Doc Brown and Xy McYerson were among the many who cleaned the house time and again after we stacked it full of base runners. Xy McYerson with the sports gouge of the game, leaving his DNA and viscous blood juice all over the field after a spectacular slide for special glory.

We’re leading the field in runs! Let’s keep running! They shall not stop the running of our pointy toes.