Soy Peligroso  •  June 23, 2020

BROOKLYN – Stagnation gripped the metropolis. It was the 9th week of confinement. Our collective brains long gone gooey, our flesh sacks prostrated before gay tigers, our most radical thought was sketching “Death By Zoom” in the style of Metallica’s logo. Meanwhile, the already infamous Dipshit Hotline was busy keeping folks alive. But it couldn’t keep them awake...

...and so we dreamed a Quarantine Dream... masks, gloves, NO TOUCHING... prime real estate in a germophobe’s spank bank. A 5-week, 5-team tournament with 500 dead prez at the end of the rainbow. We had the photoshops. We had the website. All that was left was to meet in meatspace. When we awoke the world would be different, though maybe not like we had imagined. 

Where do we go when we dream? The Man, in all His bountiful wisdom, had closed parks far and wide. York Field, the Dutch Oven, Mocha Joe’s… all shuttered. Surprisingly, and in no way related to a midnight meeting between Steady Eddie Vargas and Agent-19 AKA Faux Fauci, the only open slab of concrete in the whole city sat in the Co-Co’s backyard. The lefty-friendly confines was dubbed “The Bubble,” not for our suddenly tenuous existence, but for the larger-than-life inflated white bounce house beyond the left field fence. 

POOF. The booming sound of a Penn colliding with professional grade nylon while traveling at home run speed. Also, incidentally, the word my toddler uses when he passes gas. Coincidence? You decide. 

One team with its fair share of poofs was the MEATBALL SHOP. Helmed by the Surgeon and balanced by 8 Ball’s 4 dicks, this duo was a handful before grabbing yinzer Solo Shot off the free agent pile. Now, with all 3 Meatballs sporting Fall Classic championship belts, suddenly the Shop looked unbeatable.

Not if Fart Cop had his say. As a fart policeman in good standing, he swore a solemn oath to root out unjust farts wherever he found them. Though with 8 Ball playing some of his best stickball in recent memory, farts were in short supply. Joining a rudderless FC on team SOUL ANTHEM was Drunk Tank, fresh off achieving enlightenment through Tiger Woods ‘04 on the original XBox, and Cobra Hai, who is inarguably the one guy you want around when the Purge comes. The Soul Searchers were a solid squad. 

The middling team DOGSHIT was mostly dogshit, though not without its stellar turd. Longball Leonard’s prodigious home run prowess stunned all but the man himself, whose long-suffering lefty York bloops transformed into bonafide Idaho taters soaring over the Bubble boundaries. But the Dog Logs’ overall lack of run production was outdone only by the winless punching bag UBERS AT DUSK. The Ubies were not only late to the party, they showed up with hummus.

The enigma of the tourney was team FRESH NUTZ. Finishing in 4th place, Sugardoll, Mechanic, and Coke Zero Moses would have to win 3 straight playoff games for even a whiff of glory. Assuming they made it that far, their prize was a best of 3 against the Meatball buzzsaw. It would require near perfection. And indeed, that is what happened. 

Coke Zero provided the heroics in the early playoff rounds while a resurgent, unflappable, and altogether unstoppable J Cole & the Sugardoll 5 led the Nutz by studying the wisdom of the Tao Te Chinga Tu Madre. After taking 2019 off to raise a new cub, Suge returned far better than ever, thus making the spurious case we should all hang up our spurs from time to time. Buoyed by 13 bombs on the final day followed closely by Mechanic’s 11, the QDL Home Run Leader and Best Sportsman Sugardoll was positivity incarnate. Fresh Nutz may have earned the cash, but we all felt like 500 bucks upon tourney’s end.

With the Mothership on pause, life was a pile of flabby ass. The Quarantine Dream League was a balm for the world-weary. Modified stickball is better than no stickball at all. And when you’re able to raise a boatload of cash for a good cause? Well that’s just gravy, baby. Even though we missed many of the BK mainstays, the QDL gave us a valuable perspective on how fucking necessary our fellowship is. York Field or no York Field, everything from here on out is GRAVY. 


FRESH NUTZ (Champs): Mechanic, J Cole and the Sugardoll 5, Lefty Moses
MEATBALL SHOP: Surgeon, 8 Ball, Solo Shot
SOUL ANTHEM: Fart Cop, Drunk Tank, Cobra Hai
DOGSHIT: Longballs Lenny, Soy Peligroso, Alex K. 
UBERS AT DUSK: Stinkmitt, Shepherd, Redshirt Rookie Sascha


QD Finals HRs: Sugardoll: 13 (40), Mechanic: 11 (30), Surgeon: 7 (35), L. Moses: 4 (16), 8-Ball: 2 (12), Solo Shot: X (12)

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