FROM THE ARCHIVES: "BEST OF" WRITE UP, SEASON 3
A rant-filled, bile-fest from days gone by. The names have been removed to protect the henious.
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Need a shower... must scrub skin... ugh... wash off... stench of failure... still not clean.... oh, Lord... still... NOT... CLEAN!
How did it go last night? In the words of Bill S. Preston, Esq.: "Bogus... heinous... most untriumphant".
The 'Bags laid an egg last night and dropped an 11-7 contest. It marks the first time since the White Horse team beat us 28 weeks ago that we dropped a regular season match.
With a suprise appearance by Edna and the Hockeyheads, it should have been a night for raucous celebration and good cheer. And we did have a good time.
But losing... well, it just sucks.
Frank set the tone for the evening with a singles match that contained more yips than a Chelsea Chihuahua. But wins by Cup and RJ put us on track. Tim dropped his match. Glenn won his match. Marty re-enacted the 100 years war (unfortunately he was France) and it was 3-3 after the first period and seemed a ho-hum game.
Cricket, which used to be Our Game, has been substandard this season. Last night was unfortunately no exception. RJ and Cup split. Pike and Tim drew the best players from the other team. Slow out of the gate, they never recovered and dropped two. Frank and Lou threw uninspired darts and dropped their first before pulling it together and taking the finale. It all added up to a 4-2 period and a 7-5 score heading into doubles.
But with 6 points left to be had there was still time to salvage a respectable showing.
Didn't happen.
Colin and Frank started out with a split. Glenn and Cup split. Lou and RJ made a mega comeback and turned a nightmare game in to a nail-biter (NEVER SAY DIE!), but ended up dropping a pair. (Still, you hold your head up when you make a great comeback like that. It takes heart to do that.) But there's no getting around the fact the Dartbags lost to those old, annoying, humorless, bad-hair, bad teeth, Coors drinking f*ckwads.
In a word... F*CK.
You know what REALLY p*ssed me off? The fact that everytime Glenn threw ASPs and they went to write it down they were like... "Uh, good darts... What's your name?"
Huh? What's his name? Well, let's see... He's been here all night... he's introduced himself to everyone on your whole f*cking team (which is more than you guys did)... he's the only guy who actually is THROWING R-5s... he goes first so clearly you know he's the top name on the score sheet.... his name is Pike, Glenn F*cking Pike, you dumb old f*ck!! And stop pretending you don't f*cking know it! Those Coors Lights haven't killed ALL of your f*cking brain cells. I know you have enough gray matter left to voluntarily belch, sing along to Grand Funk Railroad songs, and complete your cheesy f*cking comb-over every morning!!! You don't have a problem doing that!!! I think you can remember ONE F*CKING NAME! And while you're remembering sh*t, here's something else for you to remember: Next time we play you f*ckwads, we're going to beat you like we caught you in bed with our sister! Got that, dipsh*t????
Motherf*cker, I can't tell you how much that p*ssed me off. And they knew who Pike was BEFORE the damn match. I heard some of them talking about him. They were just being coy.
Coy coots.
I'm getting angrier and angrier just thinking about it. F*CK. I only hope they make the playoffs. Because we owe them. We've played like crap against them twice now. They think they're better than we are. And they aren't.
F*CK!!!!!!
Okay.
Rage subsiding....
Pulse slowing...
Anger fading....
Captain Furious has left the building.
Where were we...
Six more weeks to go. We will certainly be out of first place after this week. But there is plenty of time to do what we need to do. We control our own destiny.
Marty, ever one to point to the positive side of things, noted that despite our substandard play our Dartbagness is still very much in tact. Though we dropped the match, we outlasted the old drunks on the other team as well as the hockeyheads at the bar. It's good to see some things haven't changed. Still the drinkin'est. Still the friendliest. (The ladies say we're the handsomest).... let's get back to being the winningest on Tuesday.
Come my friends, let us all swill the mouthwash of victory to remove the bitter taste of failure next week at Keeley's!
The opponent? Cue the Imperial March...
The Dart Vaders.
Time to regroup, fellas.
That is all.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Need a shower... must scrub skin... ugh... wash off... stench of failure... still not clean.... oh, Lord... still... NOT... CLEAN!
How did it go last night? In the words of Bill S. Preston, Esq.: "Bogus... heinous... most untriumphant".
The 'Bags laid an egg last night and dropped an 11-7 contest. It marks the first time since the White Horse team beat us 28 weeks ago that we dropped a regular season match.
With a suprise appearance by Edna and the Hockeyheads, it should have been a night for raucous celebration and good cheer. And we did have a good time.
But losing... well, it just sucks.
Frank set the tone for the evening with a singles match that contained more yips than a Chelsea Chihuahua. But wins by Cup and RJ put us on track. Tim dropped his match. Glenn won his match. Marty re-enacted the 100 years war (unfortunately he was France) and it was 3-3 after the first period and seemed a ho-hum game.
Cricket, which used to be Our Game, has been substandard this season. Last night was unfortunately no exception. RJ and Cup split. Pike and Tim drew the best players from the other team. Slow out of the gate, they never recovered and dropped two. Frank and Lou threw uninspired darts and dropped their first before pulling it together and taking the finale. It all added up to a 4-2 period and a 7-5 score heading into doubles.
But with 6 points left to be had there was still time to salvage a respectable showing.
Didn't happen.
Colin and Frank started out with a split. Glenn and Cup split. Lou and RJ made a mega comeback and turned a nightmare game in to a nail-biter (NEVER SAY DIE!), but ended up dropping a pair. (Still, you hold your head up when you make a great comeback like that. It takes heart to do that.) But there's no getting around the fact the Dartbags lost to those old, annoying, humorless, bad-hair, bad teeth, Coors drinking f*ckwads.
In a word... F*CK.
You know what REALLY p*ssed me off? The fact that everytime Glenn threw ASPs and they went to write it down they were like... "Uh, good darts... What's your name?"
Huh? What's his name? Well, let's see... He's been here all night... he's introduced himself to everyone on your whole f*cking team (which is more than you guys did)... he's the only guy who actually is THROWING R-5s... he goes first so clearly you know he's the top name on the score sheet.... his name is Pike, Glenn F*cking Pike, you dumb old f*ck!! And stop pretending you don't f*cking know it! Those Coors Lights haven't killed ALL of your f*cking brain cells. I know you have enough gray matter left to voluntarily belch, sing along to Grand Funk Railroad songs, and complete your cheesy f*cking comb-over every morning!!! You don't have a problem doing that!!! I think you can remember ONE F*CKING NAME! And while you're remembering sh*t, here's something else for you to remember: Next time we play you f*ckwads, we're going to beat you like we caught you in bed with our sister! Got that, dipsh*t????
Motherf*cker, I can't tell you how much that p*ssed me off. And they knew who Pike was BEFORE the damn match. I heard some of them talking about him. They were just being coy.
Coy coots.
I'm getting angrier and angrier just thinking about it. F*CK. I only hope they make the playoffs. Because we owe them. We've played like crap against them twice now. They think they're better than we are. And they aren't.
F*CK!!!!!!
Okay.
Rage subsiding....
Pulse slowing...
Anger fading....
Captain Furious has left the building.
Where were we...
Six more weeks to go. We will certainly be out of first place after this week. But there is plenty of time to do what we need to do. We control our own destiny.
Marty, ever one to point to the positive side of things, noted that despite our substandard play our Dartbagness is still very much in tact. Though we dropped the match, we outlasted the old drunks on the other team as well as the hockeyheads at the bar. It's good to see some things haven't changed. Still the drinkin'est. Still the friendliest. (The ladies say we're the handsomest).... let's get back to being the winningest on Tuesday.
Come my friends, let us all swill the mouthwash of victory to remove the bitter taste of failure next week at Keeley's!
The opponent? Cue the Imperial March...
The Dart Vaders.
Time to regroup, fellas.
That is all.
posted by Captain Furious at 11:01 AM
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