Them's Fightin' Words

Look, I don’t want to start this post on the wrong foot here ok? This is about why I don’t play action cricket, I’m totally down with the fact that you might play action cricket, playing action cricket is a perfectly acceptable pastime that thousands of mentally disabled people engage in worldwide, keeps them from banging the cat, I’m cool with that.

In fact, one of my best and severely mentally disabled friends, The Glaze, used to play action cricket every Friday with his buddies from work, that’s how open minded I am about the whole thing.

They were part of some league or other, which meant they played against a whole bunch of other tards who’d formed these ‘work buddy’ teams to encourage healthy socialising outside of working hours.

But let’s be honest, these ‘work buddy’ teams only exist because three or four douchebags in the office are FUCKING AMAZING at EVERY CONCEIVABLE SPORT and so they rope in a whole bunch of other guys who really suck at sport so that the douchebags can laugh at and humiliate the others in public.

If some guy at work came up to me and said, “Hey dude, we’re starting an action cricket team, it’s gonna be rad bro! We play every Friday after work, have a couple of beers, it’s chilled, wanna sign up?”

My reply would be, “I’m sorry. Friday nights are when I masturbate furiously to re-runs of ‘Murder She Wrote’. Sounds retarded doesn’t it? Yeah, well so does action cricket.”

See, The Glaze didn’t have the malevolence in his spirit to perceive the trap he had wandered into by agreeing to play action cricket in a ‘work buddy’ team until it was too late.

And so there he’d be on Friday evenings, NOT enjoying a few sneaky libations with the rest of his real life friends, but rather stuck in some day-glo green astro-turfed nightmare, trying with all the skill he could muster to hit a ball with a plank of wood.

Just wait, it gets better.

At some stage during their league games, the office douchebags decide to implement a new rule. The person with the lowest score has to drink a HUGE mouthful of warm beer, not out of a glass, no, that would be too easy. Not out of a shoe either, also not degrading enough.

Instead, the player with the lowest score was forced to drink a HUGE mouthful of warm beer out of the communal ball-box.

Two things immediately struck me when The Glaze broke this news one evening in shame – a) Why the fuck did they all use the same ball-box? and b) WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THEM?!

At this stage let me just make one thing clear. By ‘ball-box’, I’m not referring to a box that balls come in, I’m referring to the moulded piece of hard plastic that players wear to protect their sweaty junk from injury.

Surely at the exact point that someone suggests you play for stakes like that is when any sane person makes any excuse imaginable to get the fuck out of there?

What’s really funny though is how badly The Glaze’s team sucked. By the end of it all I think they’d lost every game except for two. They still got medals for effort though, every player in the team, which really cracks me up because The Glaze got the lowest score four or five times, once even managing to score –12, so in my estimation, he must have drank about a pint of ball-box beer.

Unfortunately he took his medal out with him on Friday night and by mistake lost it, which made me laugh so hard I cried because who in God’s name would want to walk around clubs and bars with a medal they got for drinking ball-box beer?

“Hi cutie, nice medal, what’s it for?”

“Drinking ball-box beer.”

“Oh my GOD!”

“What is it Tracy?”

“That guy’s an action cricketer!”

“Ok, stay the fuck away from us freak or I’m calling the Police!”

But what really cracked me up is the fact that the poor dude’s downed a pint of ball-box beer and now he’s got nothing to show for it! Hahahahaha! Double-edged sword muthufukkah!

The lesson here kids is never let your ‘work buddies’ rope you into any kind of sporting activity that you aren’t a semi-pro at or they’ll finally have that opportunity they’ve been waiting for to make you drink their ball-sweat.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you 😉

-ST