Ramrod, sweet Ramrod

Another loss to MKF capped off the last of the '08 seasons for the Rod. But at least the 5-4 loss wasn't embarrassing. And a special thanks to Eddie Stevens, who kicked himself out on that awesome double.

We may go out with a 4-2-1 record, but we've acheived a Zen-like balance of winning, having fun and bitching about the other teams that rivals no other team camraderie I've ever seen.

Well played, Rod. Well played.

Stay loose on the off season.

D-bags: The legend continues

We thought the D-bag Ballers had earned their nickname through repeated acts of d-baggery.

D-bag Ballers, you've been replaced.

The What Inning Is It? team is the new D-bag ballers. Or should it be What D-bag Is It?

Really, the shouting of "Manbunt!" from the field at each kicker would have won them the title. But the chirping didn't stop there, and a new crowd of D-bags were hatched.

No matter. The D-bags -- any d-bags -- have a role to play: Our bitch.

Meh. Ties.

Is there anything worse than a tie in kickball?

Maybe not remembering that Owen Wilson was in "Armageddon."

We are MKF's bitch

The history between Militant Kindergarten Front and Team Ramrod began with Ramrod's first season with MUSA kickball.

While the stats are spotty at best, the record breaks down like this:

• Spring '04: Pretty sure we won; our record was 4-2-1; MKF was 1-6 (was MKF the team whose runner missed third base? if so, we win, 2-1)
• Fall '04: Didn't play each other
• Spring '05: Ramrod 4, MKF 2
• Summer '05: Didn't play each other
• Fall '05: MKF 14, Ramrod 4
• Spring '06: Didn't play each other
• Summer '06-Summer '07: Files missing
• Fall '07: MKF 11, Ramrod 9; MKF 5, Ramrod 5
• Spring '08: MKF 12, Ramrod 8; MKF 10, Ramrod 1
• Summer '08: Ramrod 4, MKF 2
• Fall '08: MKF 10, Ramrod 7

And so it continues. MKF has our number: A hard first inning -- often known as the Ramrod inning, where we give up a few too many runs as our defense takes a mini vacation -- and we were playing catch-up the whole game. We came within one, but the failed comeback's fate was sealed when Jim J. threw to a phantom third baseman, and two runs scored.

Ah, well. If we have to be someone's bitch, it may as well be MKF.

Once a D-bag, always a D-bag

Finally, the Rod faced off against the D-bag Ballers.

After missing out on playing them twice in the summer season -- thanks, weather -- the stars aligned and we met them on the firld of glory on a muggy September night.

The game was handily ours; the Ballers had a team short a girl, though they didn't bother with the ghost out. No matter; we didn't need the charity.

But the true D-bag colors shone after the game, when they shirked their umping duties in fvor of ... drinking at Slice's -- at least, that's the story to which we're sticking.

So Cory the softie let 'em go, and we filled in to ump for the second time that night. No problem; we weren't going anywhere. But the rules say every team has to ump, and that's just cheeseball when not even two people on the team can pitch in and help out.

The D-bags might have lost their D-bag designator, were it not for the bagging out on the umping.

That's D-bag behavoir. all the way.

Rain, Ramrod, rain

It wasn't supposed to rain. I was assured rain would not fall.

Liars.

The rain fell, ending the game prematurely, just after the top of the seventh. It didn't matter; it was the other team who cried foul, unable to sustain any kind of offense against the devastating, shut-'em-down defense of the Rod.

No matter; the game had been well in Rod's hands after the first inning. The grilling, however ... that's another matter. The sausages may have been safe under the cover of Kevin's man-grill, but the same cannot be said for the Bugles, Triscuits, Cheetos and scads of other chips and dips and cheeses awaiting entry to our hungry tummies.

The mad scramble to keep everything dry was futile as the rain quickly showed us this was one game that Ramrod would not win.

Oh no?

With a few rats jumping off the waterlogged ship, the Rod nonetheless devoured delicious sausages, drank watered-down beer and munched on soggy chips, and held on until the rain, the rain, finally went away.

Ramrod stood, soaked to the marrow but victorious, defiant in the scowling face of the weather, and ready for a second sausage.

Bring it on. The Rod will take it.

Can you say domination?

I've got to hand it to you, Ramrod. You really pulled it out when the chips were down. You really brought it when it needed to be brought. You really, um, kicked some kickball balls.

I'm talking about that stellar 22-4 shellacking of I Like Beer last night, the last game of the summer season.

Here's what you did:

• Kicked homeruns (a three-run shot AND a two-run shot from Cory; a grand salami from Jim K.)
• Kicked around (at least three innings, and perhaps all four; have to check the scorebook)
• Kicked for the cycle (Jim K. did, anyway)
• Argued a call FOR the opponent
• Rallied despite being down a girl and two guys
• Invoked the 8-run-per-ups limit
• And did it all in four and a half innings (see, the umps may have claimed we played a full game of five innings, my scorebook says different -- and I don't remember falling asleep)

You did all this, even though we all wanted to get home to watch Nastia Liukin and the other gymnasty clones.

Bravo, Ramrod. Bravo.