Proof I am on the Kickball Team

We got a nice shout out from the organizers for our outfits here.

Where is Killer B?

The Grey and Gold are 2-0

For more information go to our team blog here.

Kicks-n-Giggles Week 1!!!

Take heart KnG supporters, the Grey and Gold are BACK and WINNING! We trounced the dreaded Kick in a Box 14-5 in a shorted late night affair last night. We were a man down with Head Coach KillerB sodomizing tortoises in the Galapagos but we powered through. Special thanks to GM Beerock stepping in and handling the team deftly.

Let's take a moment to applaud Beerock overall. He's been doing some great GMing so far. He has put together a strong team for this year's campaigning, upgrading talent across the board. This team mixes big time thumpers, small ball specialists and flip cup experience deftly. This will be a huge year for sure.

I was three for three with a ground rule double in my role as DH (still nursing a hiking related injury from Saturday). I also continued my streak of wearing the wrong socks by showing up in non-unisex thigh high gold socks instead of the regulation unisex knee high socks.

Beerock has a KnG website up! Wooo Hoo! check out the promotional video put together after last year's disappointing campaign.

More photos and fun to follow!

A Sunday Smile

Went to see Beirut at the Brooklyn Academy of Music with Killer B #1 and some of the kicks-n-giggles crowd. A few thoughts come to mind

• Neat show. I was down on the idea of watching a rock-n-roll show at BAM, as you know, its an orchestra house but Beirut was supported for more than half the show by what looked to be a full orchestra of 30 or so. The fuller sound benefited from the space


• Beirut is what happens when 60s french pop, waltz and some more eastern European elements have an orgy and make a baby. I'm not entirely sure what is happening, there are all these extra legs and arms and ukuleles. Still its cool; amazing even.


• Killer B #1's wingman skills are severely lacking...

They were on Letterman last week performing "Sunday Smile" just to give you a sense of what I mean

Confirmed!!! Best .500 Team Ever

The following appeared in my inbox this afternoon, thus handing Kicks and Giggles our first title of the Summer Kickball season.

"BAR CHAMPIONS:
Congratulations to the teams who had big fun both on and off of the fields and who, as voted by NYC Social Sports Club Staff, Associates, and Spies, have earned the title of Bar Champions for the Weds LES Summer Kickball league:

Bar Champions: Kicks & Giggles

Please see Ryan at the fields or bar on Wednesday night to claim your certificates, and then drink up at Tweed's because your drinks are on us this week!"

Wow. I have to hand it to the league - they got this call 100% right. This might provide just the momentum we need going into the playoffs.

Best .500 Team Ever?

After a miserable 3 weeks of consecutive losses, Kicks and Giggles found themselves on the ropes last night, in danger of not even making the playoffs. The top 6 teams in this 12 team league make it in - the rest watch from the sidelines saddled with questions about what could have been.

Would that be our fate? Hell no. The squad came out with fire in their eyes and beer in their bellies. We were playing on Field A, which was a real blessing as all of our losses have come on field B (famous for it's short length in right field). I took over pitching for the 2nd week in a row and did a really really amazing and awesome job. Xtian was MIA this week - some sort of fuzzy "work commitment" - in Brooklyn perhaps? We prevailed nonetheless, including a homerun kicked by Douchebag Dwyer with his opposite foot - some real playground ball there. The final score was 9-5, good enough to earn this 3-3 team a 5th seed in the playoffs next week. We'll need to win 3 consecutive games next Wednesday night to take the title. The stage has been set for one of the greatest NYC sporting stories of the decade - will Kicks and Giggles deliver?

The skid that would not end

When it was over, KillerB was arguing with the Ref (who may in fact be Amy Short, btw, out to get back at KillerB for ignoring her friend request). She had just called the game after 6 innings and with us down by 3 runs, even though officially there were 7 innings in a game. This was after the fourth inning, where she had instituted a mercy rule on us for scoring seven runs in an inning even though we were still losing. Basically, this b*tch was out to get us. Though too much a gentleman to say it, Killer B agrees with me. At one point, it looked to me like KillerB was about to clean her clock.

It would have made no difference. Our third loss in a row was in the books.

Two weeks ago, some tool kicked a ball over a fence and hit a car. The alarm he set off signaling the end of the game and the end of our dream of a perfect season.

Last week, a team short several players due the Fourth of July lost a heartbreaker.

Now this tragedy, a robbery perpetrated by a fat girl who could not be bothered to watch the whole game she was officiating, all the while colluding with an 8 person team of ringers who had only one female, who might have been Brandie Chastain.

Sure some people dropped some balls in the outfield, but we had a lot of people last night and I was too hung over from this to see straight much less catch a freaking ball.

No team has shown so much promise, only to suffer such a let down since the 1974 World Cup Finalist Dutch National Soccer Team. Of course, we all know how that ended.

Onward march the grey and gold, onward we march. One week to go, one more attempt for Playoff glory.

Facebook Friends = Out of Control

Like most of the Hosers, I joined Facebook a while ago when I was sold on how well it would help me stay connected with my really cool cutting edge friends, and reconnect with some long lost cool and cutting edge friends. For 6 months or so it was great. I would post some pics here and there, send an email or two, share a joke, play a game of scrabble and maybe even send a gift on someone's birthday. Way to go Facebook!

But about the time my friend count hit 150 or so, things started going haywire. People I didn't remember wanted to be friends. People I didn't like wanted to be friends. And now, it's reached a new low - people I don't even know want to be friends. This is a total no-win. I either grudgingly accept these friends because I don't want to come off as a jerk, or I decline them and feel like a jerk. What to do?

The "girl" pictured above is Amy Short. "Who?". Exactly. Amy asked me to be her friend yesterday. Not recalling who she is I did some poking around and learned she is friends with X-tian. So, assuming this is someone X-tian has introduced me to, I ask him to refresh my memory, but it turns out X-tian doesn't know her either. Or at least they've never met in person. He just accepted her invitation.

So who is this Amy Short you ask? Well, she turns out to be the President of the New York City Sports and Social Club - the kickball league we play in. So, obviously, we're totally tight. BFF. So tight that now she's got a seat in my Facebook Purgatory, not being accepted or declined - just kinda hovering around with Matt Connells (stole my tennis racket in the 8th grade), Lesley Henry (I remember her brother more than her - he looked like Harry Connick Jr.), and Susan Valentine (awkward girl from the 3rd grade who people used to say was my girlfriend - which was NEVER true).

So I'm wondering, who do the Hosers have in their Facebook Purgatory? Creepy math teacher? Former yoga instructor? Ex-girlfriends sister? Or do you just accept everyone and move on?

And good luck with that new friendship X-tian.

Kicks & Giggles Week 2 - 17-6...Wetter is Better

A chill ran down my back

It could have been sweat or rain, but I knew better. It was fear. A bolt of lightening had just flashed across the sky. I looked over at girl who had no clue. She was wondering what we were doing out there, why no one had called the game.

20 minutes earlier, the rain started, we were standing around waiting to play. The opposing team ran around the block as a warm up. K&G stood around and chain smoked.

Killer B's strategy for the game was simple and inspired
(1) On defense keep everything in front of you. Big plays only happen when you have to turn around and chase a ball
(2) On offense, let's play small ball. Most of these teams don't communicate well, when a ball is in play it looks like 6 year olds playing soccer. No one knows what to do

The d**chebag was pitching, Timothy Stack-alike, Killer B and I were manning the outfield. Everything would be ok.

I spent an inordinate amount of time fraternizing with the other team and later during the game trying to talk to the prettiest girl ever, who plays for the team we wooped up on last week, who was on the other side of the chain linked fence, waiting her turn.

I won't lie. I was scared. The thunderstorm brought out two of my biggest fears.

My fear of lightening - Even as my parents made me walk barefoot in the street and had Dominicans pelt me with baseballs to toughen me up, they built up in me a steady fear of lightening. Whenever there was a thunderstorm we were forced to unplug everything and sit quietly in our dark house, praying it would all subside. My dad periodically talking of this fool or that and how they foolishly died hiding under a tree, trying to stay warm. Now here I was, challenging the Gods in a stupid gold headband. I just wanted to sit in a dark room and cry.

My fear of busting my ass and embarrassing myself - In the second inning our third baseman busted his ass hard rounding second and ruining what would have been a home run. If I had gotten cut, I would have cried like a girl.

I resolved right there that neither would happen.

Of course, on the next play, a ball sailed over my head and i had to bust it to catch up to it, which I did half heartedly.

The next inning, I asked off the field and quietly positioned myself close to PS 142, just in case God decided to strike us down for our insolence.

The rain eventually subsided and I almost stopped sucking...sticking to the small ball plan and scoring a run during a rally when our team actually fell victim to the Mercy Rule, we had scored so many runs. During the rally, Timothy Stack-alike yelled "miss it" as four of our opponents huddled around a pop up. A very intense fellow got in his face for his unsportsmanlike conduct but luckily for all involved Mr. Intense remembered he was a thirty year old playing kick ball and mellowed out

I still sucked a little bit, overplaying a ball in the field that I should have caught easily. Luckily, the Killer B backed me up and as I slid on the wet ground I balled up into the fetal position so Killer B could get the ball back in play.

Killer B was inspired. the guy with the wrestling shoes can't be stopped, not by opposing teams or calls for reasonable base running. Our third baseman proudly showed his scars at the bar afterwards.

I ran into the opposing pitcher in the bathroom. He asked if we practiced. I looked at him confused. He talked about how good we were at communicating and backing each other up on plays. I rushed back and told my teammates.

Our long, slow, rain soaked march to glory continues...

Kicks & Giggles: Week 1 Recap

Killer B is a great coach.

In anticipation of our opening match, the team spent an inordinate amount of time coordinating uniforms. It was agreed that everyone on the team would wear gold American Apparel headbands, wristbands and knee high socks. Someone went and got all the stuff, dumbass that I was, I showed up with the wrong colored socks and felt awkward about it the whole night. We all agreed to be properly hydrated.

Earlier in the day, the coach and I debated how he should distinguish himself from the rest of the team. Killer B committed to carrying a clipboard, to document his decisions and measure his success. We discussed the idea that he should perhaps consider a gold visor rather than a headband or potentially a cowboy hat. I asked if hitting the tanning salon was necessary.

Winning and losing is one thing, but no one will take you seriously if you don't have a proper tan. I could not get to the tanning both, so instead I moisturized like a demon. Just because I'm gray doesn't mean I have to be ashy...

Sock issues aside, I was someone to be taken seriously. I was well moisturized and well hydrated. My headband was positioned in such a way to keep my luxurious hair out of my eyes much like a young girl would. As we amassed at the playground amidst a sea neighborhood kids riding scooters and ballers, you know, ballin, I got worried. Someone asked what the rules of kickball were. Another fellow seemed to be putting on wrestling shoes. One guy looked like Timothy Stack. Even our coach showed up in khakis. Worried...

Killer B quickly put things in order, reading from the clipboard he started diagramming our defensive alignment, showing everyone what to do. He then went over simple base running.

A girl nominated herself to play first base. I walked over and mumbled under my breathe that the first baseman will have a lot of balls thrown at her. She looked at me like I was an ahole. I had confused her for the girl who asked which way to run after she kicked the ball. I felt like a d**che. I also noticed this girl was rather pretty. Good opener by xtian.

killer b quickly set up a killer b formation that leveraged our strengths. I was in centerfield standing between a girl who had no idea what she was doing and Timothy Stack. Killer B lined up in left field playing the deep and tricky green monster that this asphalt jungle wrought on us.

Needless to say, I was a vacuum cleaner out there, running around frantically and catching most everything thrown my way, at least ten balls i think. I misplayed one ball that I had to hustle over to get to. My accelerated pace making the ball bounce off my chest. I was demoralized. The girl who had no idea suggested that it was "good hustle". She said it as though I were going to cry. I realized I was on the verge of tears. On the next play I overplayed a ball that was going to timothy stack and doubled up the person I had let on base. I stopped crying but I was still sweating.

We won. 7-3 or something, suffocating the other team with our defense and being crafty with our ball placement on offense. We had a good team. The guy who was wearing wrestling shoes completely ignored me when I was playing first base coach and over ran the runner in front of him. Still he is a weapon.

The girl who was sore at me for suggesting she should not play first base was (A) awesome as a first baseman and (B) a really cool person. I talked to her a nice long bit at the bar after.

somewhere in my 3rd or 4th pitcher I realized I was ripped and departed. I love this game.

Unofficial Start to Kickball Season

Later this evening myself and X-tian begin a new journey. X-tian will take this journey as a Player, while I will take the journey as a Player-Coach (step out of line and you're riding the pine hotshot!). Nonetheless, the journey will end in the same place for both of us, the hallowed halls of NYC kickball lore.

Look for a redacted photo of X-tian and KillerB1 hoisting a big, fat, trophy full of sweaty kickball beer here 7 weeks from tomorrow. Also look for a despondent Evil lurking in the background lamenting his decision not to play.