Soy Peligroso • October 9th, 2019
BROOKLYN – You’re in a crowded elevator and your floor’s about to arrive. What if I fart, you think with a Grinchy smile. What if I rip some noxious foulness, that would be fackin’ HEE-LARIOUS, hahahaha no one would know, my floor is here and I would go scot-free, the perfect crime! Concentrate now, the door’s about to open. Gird your loins, here it comes, an exquisitely silent ass blast. It’s released! The day is WON! And my floor’s here! Wait why aren’t the doors opening? What’s going on… WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON WHY AREN’T THE DOORS WORKING.
This is Dom the Deal. This is his life now.
As they planned Brooklyn’s 11th annual Fall Classic, it became clear to the Co-Commissioners that they had 20 automatics. 20 players who’d poured enough blood, sweat, and beers to warrant the honor of competing in the Greatest Sporting Event On Earth. 18 of the 20 said aye aye, while 2 sent their immense regrets. Understandable… “life” rears its ugly head sometimes. Lucky for him, Rookie Phil had just belly-flopped on the scene. That made 19. So what to do for #20? Did anyone truly deserve it? Was anyone…relevant?
Quite frankly, no. But the Co-Cos had options. Maybe Time Machine? Nah, he warps out to play Hold ‘Em with Billy Crudup and Howard the Duck. Diamond? Nope. He may fancy himself a legend, but the Diamond played less stickball this season than Fart Cop’s dog. What about Rookie Travis? You know, that one guy who constantly balled the first few months but then moved to Jersey, had a baby, and is presumed dead? Nope again. Cobble Hill Kid, Lone Wolf, Connie Smack, Sugardoll, and Balls? Womp womp.
While eating dick-shaped foodstuffs, inspiration struck the Co-Cos. What about Hot Dog? He has a certain irascible pluckiness. Oh shit! what about the other DSS boys? Southern Diamond, the Monk, Ay Caramba, Sugar, Double Barrel? And LA’s Golf Shotz, Katfish, and Dom the Deal? And we can’t forget the PNW’s Wanderer and Daisy Cutter. They all put in appearances at York. They all traveled to stickball Mecca in 2019. Shouldn’t they get a shot at the postseason?
The answer was a resounding F-yes. And thus, the Search for Mr Irrelevant began.
19 players across the YFS family were invited to compete in a first-of-its-kind skills competition to win the final coveted spot in Brooklyn’s Fall Classic. Though it got their willies and peens rock hard, nearly all turned it down. It was money. It was work. They had to rearrange their sock drawer. WHATEVS.
When it shook out, 2 sluggers answered the call. 2 BK OG’s who’ve seen it all, except this: The Deal (AKA El Choppo) and the Diamond (AKA Don Rickles).
Round 1: Hitting
The Deal: 9 points
The Diamond: 3 points
Troubling rumors began to swirl as the competition neared. El Choppo, it seemed, had no earnest intention on actually becoming Mr. Irrelevant. That would involve rearranging his jam-packed production schedule. “The next few weeks are tough for me. I’m shooting a new show for Animal Planet. It’s called Bonkers Honkers. Pretty much what you think it is. We strap geese to bumper cars and then let the cameras roll. Riveting stuff.” When these rumors reached the Co-Cos, they let it be known in no uncertain terms that a lengthy, unpleasant suspension awaited anyone who claimed availability for the Fall Classic and then subsequently backed out. “Gulp.”
Meanwhile, the Diamond was prepping the only way he knew how. “I start every day with Cutty over pancakes. Then lunchtime I follow that up with Cutty over Cutty. Then for dinner I cut the calories and go straight water over tequila, hold the water. Keeps me spry, like a leprechaun fuckin’ a housecat.”
Round 2: Double Plays
The Deal: 0 points
The Diamond: 0 points
Sunday arrived, gloomy and portentous. As start time neared, there was still no sign of Don Rickles… The Deal began to nervously pace about (more so than usual). As a courtesy (to Dom, mostly), Soy P shot Diamond a text. “I figured he was in the area. Maybe arguing with the bartender at Pedro’s. Maybe yelling at children. You could hear a lot of police sirens, so you knew he had to be close.”
Eventually, the Diamond finally arrived… well prepared… and immediately started in on the insults. “I always like to begin my set with Mom cracks. Fuck your mom, fuck your mom with your grandma’s dick, that sort of thing. Then I subtly transition to more sophisticated slander. Maybe sprinkle in some gay shit. You’re so gay, you’re a dumb queer. You know, high-level quips that make you stop and think.”
Round 3: Suds + Reefer
The Deal: 5 points
The Diamond: 17 points
With 2 rounds on the books, the Deal unfortunately had himself a lead and quickly realized that unless he slammed on the brakes, he just might accidentally win this goddamn thing. It was unclear, meanwhile, if the Diamond even knew he was in a competition. “Wait, we’re still doing this?” he slurred as the spectators’ brows furrowed concernedly, nobody really sure if he had been joking. If Dom the Deal’s life had a soundtrack, this was the exact moment when the Curb Your Enthusiasm theme would play.
Round 4: YFS Trivia
The Deal: 21 points
The Diamond: 8 points
And so he nursed one piddly-shit tall boy for the entire round 3. The Deal was in the clear. He had daylight. After doubling up on YFS branded blunts (lovingly rolled by BK’s resident reefer specialist Perfect Sunday), the Diamond had sprinkled in some jello shots (but not the hard boiled eggs, those he avoided like food) to take the pole position. The only thing left for the Deal to do was put aside his pride and deliberately miss the trivia questions.
But we know how this plays out, don’t we. We’ve read the Odyssey. Hubris is a helluva drug. Womp womp.
The Deal: 35 points
The Diamond: 28 points
The phone calls began immediately. Calls to the fiancee. Calls to his coworkers. How can I get out of this, sweet lord, get me out of this… Bonkers Honkers needs me. I can’t let the geese down.
The onlookers couldn’t help but notice a curious lack of rapturous ecstasy.
Like a single man in the 90s, the Deal waited a few days to get in touch. Something about regret, sportsmanship, and white whales. It’s hard not to feel for him. We’ve all farted in a crowded elevator and expected the doors to open. But sometimes you shit your pants instead. That’s life, and life is wonderful.
For his relatable human failings, El Choppo is now ineligible for Brooklyn’s Fall Classic until 2024. Mr. Irrelevant, the 20th spot in BK’s Fall Classic, is a vacancy.