Perhaps the recent kickball updates were too exuberant. Maybe we grew a little too fond of our vaunted defense. Possibly, some of us were looking past our game to the post-game happy hour.
Maybe we were just due for a loss.
Whatever the reason, fate dealt us a wake-up call on Friday night. The Ball-Busters were kicked to the curb via a melt-down of Houston Oilers versus Buffalo Bills'ian proportions.
On yet another frosty evening in the majestic Krieg Kickball Grounds of far South Austin, we struggled to capture the magic that had been with us all year. Something was missing. It was like Siskel without Ebert. It was like sleeping in a bed without a pillow. It was like chicken strips without any dipping sauce.
The game started out normally enough. We built a 5-1 lead and played good defense. As the clock on the dilapidated scorecard began to approach its lightbulb/electrical problem-addled approximation of 0 minutes, a cold wind began to blow from the south.
All we needed was 3 outs to close out the game. Suddenly, we were less effective than the Iraqi provisional government. On a series of flukish infield singles, walks, and throwing errors, the Commandos erased our lead and stormed ahead. We were vanquished, 7 to 5. Strength had become weakness. Joy had become sorrow.
Our only consolation was that our opponents are probably the nicest people in the league. They are jovial graduate students who field a whole fleet of mascot dogs. I've never seen a basset hound wearing a UT orange sweater quite so impressively.
We posed for a few team photos and headed off to the traditional post-game, a little-disappointed but glad to be with friends'y hour.
A few photos will be posted tonight.
1 comment:
Nicely done. Maybe one day you will learn not to tempt karma. Although it is hard to be humble
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