Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Jon Danger still missing, Tide still rolling…

The Tide is off to a hot 7-1 start to the 2017 campaign and Jon Danger still simply does not give a fuck. After an 8 ½ month stint overseas (a “party” deployment trending as #JonderLust on the internet) Danger is allegedly back stateside, ready to give Trump’s America the old college try.

Active and extended members of the Tide family waited with bated breath for Danger’s triumphant return to the diamond on Sunday at Albany High School, but sadly his presence was not granted. Rumors swirled of his wearabouts in Los Angeles, or in a dimly lit back office of a border patrol dungeon. No one can be quite sure. Hope still remains that he’ll punch the clock when the time is right, grab a piece of the rope and pull on yet another Tide ‘Ship run.

Even sans Danger, the Tide has been really rolling as of late. More often than not, Aussie Luke has been climbing the hill, organizing his wet lettuce beneath his Tulane replica, and pumping the pearl until the cows come home. The word dominant comes to mind. Sunday was no different. The only notable blemish came on an EBAC double into Albany’s Triple’s Alley, causing a bellow of disgust and disbelief.

On the offensive side of the baseball, the Tide has swung an uncharacteristically collective hot stick. Everchill will tell you it’s due to the SFNABA’s rapid overexpansion and watered down pitching, but the Tide has been raking. Double digit runs has become the norm. Big flies, doubles, dying quails, you name it.

Sunday in particular saw Tahoe Pete breakout in a major way. Positioned in the two hole, the 2014 Boston Red Sox Fantasy Camp MVP collected hits all over the yard, including a inside-the-park-grand-slam into the aforementioned Albany High School Triple’s (Thank Christ it doesn’t have a sponsor yet) Alley.

Without going full stat ran on you, other hits were collected, by numerous players without names on their backs, to the tune of 12 runs over nine complete innings. However, no at bat was more exhilarating, inspiring, exhausting, or suspenseful than Gigante’s AB in the top of the 4th. Coming off a swinging strikeout in the 2nd, and a career exclusively as a pitcher up and down the coast of California, Gigante dug in for an at-bat that left even Everchill 100% satisfied. Clawing back from a 1-2 count, spitting on sliders a half-inch off the black, diving over the dish to spoil two-strike heaters into the neighborhood dog park, you name it, the AB had it all. #44 went to war for a good five minutes there, to the absolute delight of the three Tide faithful in attendance, for the sole purpose of not letting the 4th inning die an easy death.

After the battle was won, and Gigante lumbered down to first base, Two Hole and Tahoe Pete returned the favor with back-to-back knocks, all but ending EBAC’s pipe dreams of competing with a rolling Tide.

Of course, Everchill will tell you this all means shit. Heading into Memorial Day at 7-1 without wins over the Wood, Topes and Bay Sox is the equivalent to lighting the lamp in Isla Vista on Halloween. Shit is not that hard. Fortunately, those benchmark battles lie just around the bend.

Top of mind among Tide brass headed into MDW is if and when Non Runner will return safely from his Dick Funeral in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Book makers in Atlantic City are essentially calling it 50/50 at this juncture. Jason Stark, who recently got canned by ESPN, has begun covering the SFNABA as a last resort. Stark is reporting that Non Runner’s infected finger is great cause for concern, as narcotics and antibiotics have never proven to be a compatible cocktail.

“It’s all fucking bullshit,” Non Runner explained to Stark in a recent column on “I’m headed down to Cabo to party my fucking dick off with my boys. If that’s a crime, oh well. It’s my fucking pinkie for Christ sake. I’ll go Ronnie Lott on it if I have to.”

It remains to be seen if Non Runner comes back in a body bag, missing a digit, with a bright red braciole hanging from his legs. That would really be a shame, but the Tsunmami organization needs to keep its edge somehow.

Housekeeping: Remember to donate to Non Runner’s adopted son on

Swinging a Hot Stick: Tahoe Pete - Singles, doubles, hotly debated bombs.

Bump Kings: Aussie Luke - Established the inner half by dotting three guys, then proceeded to fulfill his advertising sponsorship deal with Sherwin Williams on the outside black.

Chatter of the Week: Drunk Cal Baseball Fan in Berkeley razzing 7th ranked TCU - “I’ve seen better hands on a clock, Michael!” “Michael, you like to wear your romper tight, don’t you Michael?”

Everchill - “I like the book to reflect the game accurately. So sue me.”

Non Runner - “Turns out part of the reason he’s at 194 pounds is that his meal plan got cancelled and his b**** ass mom is being as useful as tits on a bull.”

Upcoming: Idle, #Pray4Tommy

Posted by section925 on 05/24 at 10:52 AM

Wednesday, May 03, 2017

It’s the end of the world as we know it, and the SFNABA seems fine

As you read these words, the 2017 blog season is officially upon us, which means we completely skipped 2016? That’s gutwrenching.

Well here’s some walk-up music for you. Enjoy it.

Yeah, kinda nuts, depending on how high you are. Tsunamis do start with earthquakes. And yeah, “team by team reporters baffled, Trumped, tethered” is weirdly accurate for a tune that old. But oh well. What we have here is a group of men with tunnel vision, who realize how important it is to trust the process and continually refine their holistic approach to hitting. Dirtbags with an utter disregard for their 5-1 record, 3 bombs on Sunday, and continuous flirtations with team no-hitters. A team who smells blood in the water with the San Francisco Fog rolling onto Alameda Island this weekend, committed to driving Skullcap Lawyer’s head into the sand and beating him senseless with a pro cut braciole fresh off the train from Baton Rouge, Louisiana.

Yes, Jon Danger Hirsch is still on the other side of the world, still failing to give a fuck, still feeling fine, with no real signs of cuming home to the Trump Zoo and taking a job in Marketing. But even in his absence, Danger has still managed to pull on the same proverbial rope, religiously making sure to corral a Southern Pacific rally hog prior to Tide first pitch each Sunday morning. The third world slump buster routine has apparently paid dividends, judging by the Tide’s gaudy run differential here in 2017. His ‘86 Mets diet crossed with Eastern yoga meditation leads us to believe he won’t soon slow down and climb off his motor bike. If an when he does, an August at-bat at SLBP in crunch time inevitably awaits him, with Jake Taylor pacing the concrete dugout, Old Crowe methodically going through the signs, and Omaha half playing catch with his son down the left field line.

The “One More Year” moniker is two years old now. “Why Not Us?” has also come and gone. So we have that working against us. But fuck…

Planning a wedding, raising a kid, blowing up a knee, unrealistic sales projections in the FiDi, none of it has slowed down Wrong Way Sal, thanks to a foam roller and a beef-friendly CrossFit membership.

Gigante, tethered to the DL thus far, has failed to hit anything lower .500 and play flawless D at first base despite not climbing the hill just yet.

Aussie Luke, when not hobnobbing with the Black Mambas of the world, has delivered an ungodly Wins Above Replacement score. 

Nuke, and his brother from The Program are quietly starting to shove and mash, respectively.

Tahoe Pete hasn’t gone to Tahoe yet, or rampaged a wedding, but the night of the season is still young…Hyphen is swagged out as usual, Yellowish Livestrong M-Frames driving results…Bumstead bought a Honda van, forfeiting traditional Marina Beef and zeroing in on divorced techies in Noe Valley with bitchy attitudes and bigger checkbooks.

Rizzo’s WPW empire continues to grow. Stockholders rejoiced to see him buy a new pair of pants. Tom D’s swaggy Kris Bryant kicks really got the boy’s on Wall Street rock hard.

Toddamus seems relatively unconcerned with the whole enterprise, even in the midst of making web-gem-of-the-decade type plays on the hallowed ground of Rickey Henderson Field…Godfather continues to grind from afar, his Doyers recently going back-to-back-back jacks at Chavez Ravine, anchored by Dirtbag Bro King Red Turner.

So there you have it. At least for now. As always, tune in and stay tuned. You never know when Jake Taylor is gonna call your name, or pencil himself in to hit, but that’s a longer story, in need of a booth at the 500 Club, with warm Racer 5. We’ll get to that later. More stuff will happen in-between. For now, Roll Tide…

Posted by section925 on 05/03 at 03:05 PM
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