Bombers: 0, Blues: 12

This week's recap was contributed by Taylor "Tater Tot" Pilkington. —The Editors.   

Under the looming skies of Dewitt Clinton Park, the Oxford Blues recorded their third mercy rule and fifth win of the season over the REBAS Bombers by a score of 12-0. Although afternoon rains threatened to turn the infield to quicksand, not even Mother Nature could stand in the way of our intrepid heroes’ quest for victory. A little light landscaping, and the stage was set for athletic domination.

On the mound, The Pocket Rocket pitched a shutout as the Blues moved closer to clinching a playoff spot. Employing a vicious Vulcan changeup, Robtronic mowed down batters like Ozzi eating hamburgers (Jeopardy Category: Things that Happen Fast. Also a correct response: Dave’s lovemaking). Noted a source close to the Blues pitching staff: "The R-Train was making express stops today. All the way downtown, if you know what I mean. No seriously, he pitched really well. I mean, super-good, like the Michael Jordan of baseball, excluding that one time he actually did play baseball."

In truth, the game happened so quickly that it's hard to piece it back together. The Oxford bats were on fire. Dave hit an inside the park home run (aren’t they all really, in this league?) and got the game ball. Ben complained about the sorry state of large, corporate American breweries. Brian sacrificed his body to protect the unspoiled sanctity of left field. Michelle bulldozed through a player who tried to cover the plate without the ball. (Family members say he's resting comfortably at Mount Sinai Hospital; the closed-casket funeral will be held next Tuesday.) And Joe C. wore a new hat, a hot cherry red number to complement his position at the hot corner (Like David Lee Roth, a Blue knows that it’s not just winning, but looking good doing it that matters). 

After the bloodbath was over, the team retired to the Bull Moose where, along with The Best Dressed Man in New York, they made merry for many hours. Amidst the festivities, Elyse solemnly pledged to stay out all night drinking before the end of the season. Plus, Coach Laplante, Oxford's daring leader, had more than one reason to celebrate; not only did she captain the brave Blues to a commanding victory (personally dealing the death blow by scoring the 12th and final run), she also celebrated her 21st birthday and attained the dizzying career heights of Executive Editor. This called for cupcakes! Many, many cupcakes.

Another day, another win for the Blues, and for some, another step closer to Immortality. In the words of Coach Taylor: "Booyah! The team's inspirational emails paid off. Blues are positioned for playoffs! Incredible."

Flashbacks and Predictions

Waiting can be an agonizing activity. Often, to spare ourselves mental anguish, we use distractions to help pass the time. So, as we wait for yet another storm front to move across the New York metro area, I thought I'd post a couple of things to take our minds off of rain outs. First, a quick stroll down memory lane, all the way back to August 2008. The setting: Astoria's Bohemian Hall & Beer Garden. The occasion: A Blues Banquet. Because of a medical emergency, Andy couldn't attend last summer's celebration and the following speech had to be delivered in absentia.

Before I say anything else, I’d like to give a shout out to Brooklyn. Secondly, I hope that many good kielbasa jokes are made this evening—I’m disappointed to be missing them. To begin, I’m grateful to receive this award and the public recognition of my tremendous talent as well as the unparalleled contributions I’ve made to the team. But for the sake of next season, I had to go to Nashville for some experimental surgery on my injured wrist.

I was going to wait to tell everyone, but then I thought it was best to inform you all now: I'm getting a Terminator arm. Although the damage didn’t seem serious at first, doctors informed me that I was close to dying. Fortunately for the Blues, the prospect of playing one more season was all the hope I needed to live long enough to become part machine.

I will be donating my award to charity to contribute to this extremely important cause because with enough awards like this one, we'll be able to see an end to broken wrists within our lifetimes. Imagine a world where your grandchild says, “Pop-pop, what's a broken wrist?” and you reply, “What the deuce?!?! No, wait… sorry, that's history.”

Remember, TIME magazine called softball injuries this millennium's bubonic plague; I’m proud to be a spokesperson in the battle against this scourge. And sure, I’m fighting the good fight one-handed at the moment, but I still think that together we can win handily. Also without getting too partisan, everyone should know that if elected to office, John McCain plans on cutting all funding for broken-wrist research. What a bastard. Finally, I’d like to thank myself for my exceptional athleticism. I’d also like to thank my parents for giving me shoddy genes and God, for making my bones so very, very brittle. Oh, and if it weren’t for Ben, I wouldn’t have broken anything in the first place.

Shifting focus to the season ahead of us, I'd like to put to rest a rumor that's been overheard in the locker room on more than one occasion. In spite of any flimsy evidence to the contrary, the Blues Organization does in fact care about the well-being of its players. No, we don't have a team van, a trainer, or even a clubhouse, but I'm very proud to announce that we've nearly secured an official baker. She's an award-winning pastry chef and, as of Monday, the proud owner of a Cuisinart Stand Mixer, complete with 1,000 watts of mixing power! Because frankly, cupcakes (OK, OK and beer) are the only fitting way to commemorate our first win of 2009.