IYWMB v. Shut It, We’re Here to Drink, Saturday, 18th April, 1:00 p.m.

By Dave aka Gladrags
Photos by Jim aka "Balltrap"

And drink they did.

We arrived a few minutes before match time. The bar was already permeated by the aroma of fried food and teeming with fans who had come not in the expectation that they might one day tell their grandchildren that they witnessed first-hand the completion of IYWMB’s almost undefeated season, but rather to watch the F.A. Cup semifinal between Arsenal and Chelsea on satellite TV. After a few minutes of warm-ups, we noticed that our opponents were three, and Courson approached them to inquire as to the status of their fourth. He was sadly not told to shut it, but rather that their final member was on his way. He arrived a few minutes later, and after Shut It scored a couple of sixes of Schlitz, IYWMB’s inexorable march toward almost-undefeatedness was underway.


The first game was over in a flash. A wondertoss by Sujan made it 1-0, good throws by Courson and me made it 2-0 and 3-0 respectively, and another great Sujan roll (made possible by some opportunistic play by Auntie Bethy) left us with a 4-0 lead. Under the weight of this onslaught, Shut It folded like a Japanese schoolgirl making an origami representation of despair. Visibly rattled, they gave us an easy opportunity for four, but Courson and I only needed three. 7-0.

The second game started much as the first had. Sujan and Jim pressed them early with the long game, and Shut It proved helpless against the power of the rollback. Seemingly, also helpless against the power of the Schlitz’s. Jim secured one point and yet another brilliant effort by Sujan turned one into two. 2-0.


Courson kept the pedal pressed firmly to the metal and went long again. Curiously, I had decided to advise one of the Shut It guys in the interval about the need when rolling from the south end to get past the dark patch (or as I call it, “Coogan’s Bluff”) and down the hill. I was soundly punished for that departure from my normally cutthroated nature, as that same Shut It roller then scooted right past our defensive balls and made it 2-2. His Mets shirted partner could have gone for three, but failed to summon the courage. Either that, or he was simply so amazed that they had scored any points that he lost his grip on the ball and just dropped it. The Schlitz now coursing through their veins, they quickly snatched another point to make it 3-2, before Courson seemed to right the USS IYWMB and level things at 3.


Unfortunately, this proved to be only a temporary course correction, and some lucky rollbacks and a lot of brute force put them up 6-3. Just then, the bar erupted, as Drogba rounded the Arsenal keeper and slotted home to send Chelsea to Wembley. Shut It must have been disappointed, because they couldn’t have seemed any more eager to throw the game away. After throwing the white ball long, they threw their first ball short, and it settled in about eight feet from the target. It was to end up their closest ball. The second throw hit the back wall and a shout of “Don’t let them get four points” from an increasingly pained teammate began to look more like a prophecy than a warning. Two more balls against the back wall, and Sujan and Jim crossed the “t” and dotted the “i.” It spelled victory.

In Honor of Double Trouble: A Double Update!

And so let it be written: Rod is on fire.

While he must apologize for lack of updates, it was for good reason.

You see, he spent the better part of last week and a half on an incredible bender, doing 8-balls, visiting strip clubs and participating in generally despicable behavior, all in the name of celebration.


Please allow Rod to explain:

First, there was the game against the Balls of Justice. I assume they were made up of lawyers with a pretty good sense of humor. But a good sense of humor does not a bocce game win, as was clearly demonstrated as Rod brought the gavel down in style.

Here are some examples of Rod's prowess on the court:

Dr. Booze declared that the victory was thanks to her burgeoning relationship with WB (or as the uninitiated refer to her, "Water Bottle").

To find out more, you can spy on this beautiful duo by going here: http://ilovemynewwaterbottle.blogspot.com/

However, this clearly wasn't a WB-related victory, because the next week, we took down Cobra Kai.

Note the fancy cursive!

This game had been in the back of our minds all season, especially because the match (originally slated to go down over a month ago) was postponed. Many of us worried that these two teams would never meet, but alas, the scheduling Gods made this happen and things got weird.

First, Rod goes down 4-0.

But apparently, Rod enjoys being an underdog because that shit did not last!

Bam!

Moments later, comeback city. Ball after ball flowed freely from Rod's spindly fingers, racking up points like hit singles of other people's records.

Before we knew it, the game was over, and as our heads stopped spinning, we all came to the startling realization that a) Dr. Booze is a liar and b) Mitch was on fire. Playing a match that would make any old Italian man blush, Mitch brought the thunder and made it rain pain. Witness a graceful toss from the golden arm: