Soy Peligroso • June 23rd, 2019
BROOKLYN – Before we get to the “sturm und drang” of a seemingly typical late June Sunday at the Mothership, let’s peek at the week prior where the Dads (those who consult a shared google calendar before taking a shit) battled the Lads (those with sweet, sweet freedom to shit wherever they please, whenever they please) in the 8th matchup of these two storied powerhouses. Imagine my surprise, 1200 miles away mindlessly dunking my pubescent 2-year-old into the Gulf of Mexico, when an ESPN alert popped up on my phone: “LADS romp 10-0; DADS overdose on Fiber One in 2-hit thrashing.” Good Christ, the shame. I turned red as a Bud Tall, or maybe that was the scorching Floridian sun. I vowed never to abandon my paternal brethren again, cursing the Dad captain, Ben “Needs to Eat a Big Sandwich” Goldberg, for not whipping their PAW-Patrol-watchin’ asses into shape. I hereby offer my begrudging congratulations to captain 8 Ball and his Lads who even the series at 4 wins apiece.
Anyway, that was then, and this is then too, but not as then as then. We don’t need to spill much ink on the outcome. The Blacks scored 53 runs on the day. They hit 5 bombs in a single inning. They had several grand slams. It was all very impressive. A true, unfettered DONG SHOW. The Reds frowned. They frowned quite a bit. They could still be frowning.
We could rack our brains on yet another euphemism for “home run,” or we could focus on the masterful display of dipshittery that fueled the Black tidal wave. Gunning for Katfish Global’s top spot in the YFS Dipshit Power Rankings, Brooklyn’s Big Sexy continues to raise the bar for infectious idiocy. This particular week he Hogan-ripped his white collared shirt into a makeshift Chippendale’s outfit complete with neck choker. “Oh I regularly modify my shirts,” remarked Large Coitus. “Sometimes you find yourself in bed eating ribs. BBQ sauce everywhere. What are you gonna do for a napkin? Bam, tear off a sleeve. Works every time.” Not to be outdone in the wardrobe department, Co-Commissioner Surgeon raised his pink penis socks whenever the lunacy boiled over, giving the appreciative Reds numerous opportunities to acquaint themselves with a full-mast cartoon schlong. “When the Surgeon bellowed ‘Dong Show!’ for the 27th time, it didn’t bother us one bit. We reacted quite calmly and did not get pissy at all,” said Shepherd and 8 Ball.
Finally, on a day where a woman walking across the highway Lone Wolf-style was somehow not the weirdest thing to happen, Rookie Sascha went full Slim Reaper and tore his Achilles tendon. It’s take a lot to be noticed when you first jump in the Mothership pool. Lot of lovable goofballs in there. But suffering a catastrophic injury is a surefire way to raise some eyebrows. Thoughts and prayers, redshirt. You’ll be back on the slab next year. At least it wasn’t your drinking arm.
BLACKS: Soy Peligroso, Surgeon, Nerf Hoops, Big Sex, Magic Man, & Rookie Sascha
REDS: Shepherd, Cobra Hai, 8 Ball, Secret Agent, & Rookie Matt AKA Perfect Sunday
G1: R 9, B 18
G2: B 13, R 3
G3: R 4, B 22
HRs: Surgeon, 7; Nerf Hoops, 5; Soy Peligroso, 4; Big Sex, 3; Cobra, 3; Rookie Sascha, 2; Shepherd, 1