Before I start I would like to offer an explanation as to why there was no ‘report’ last week. Despite what you may have heard It had nothing to do with the “Chip DeFalco DeFalco incident”: Let me just say that If Peter wants to bring his kid to the game, fine with me, but if Chip de Peter De Falco happens to not land in precisely the same time zone from where he jumped, don’t blame the Liability, blame the parents I also have to deny rumors that my silence is a form a protest over the lack of team spirit some Epiphanators showed last week- walking off the pitch in the middle of the do-or-die sudden-death golden-goal 23rd overtime. No need to name names, since the offending software swami was consequently fired. The true reason I haven’t written in two weeks is that there just wasn’t much to write about. That has all changed. Last night the Star-Lite Express didn’t just roll over one more band of Bush league bandicoots, we rolled over TWO bands of square-toed futbalistas.

Anyhow, here is how it went down.

The field was crowded that night: three other teams showed up, not to mention the swirling winds and encroaching clouds. There were seven of us and nearly forty of them. We liked those odds. Our first targets were stretching on the sidelines like Spanish Ballerinas, and just like Monet they looked good from far, but were far from good. Sure, they jumped to two-nil lead, but we brought our own Nutcrackers the Suite, blasting two unanswered goals. Oh, I guess they had an answer: it’s just that it was “we quit”. Their coach was whistling like Zamfir at a flute convention. He figured that they had a chance but it had a big “NO” in front of it. So rather then face the Tchaikovsky, they split.

We had worked up a sweat and were ready for another serving. I’d prefer and old-fashioned with Rye, but another bunch of marks would have to do. The picked some poor sap to guard their net, so we put Mad-Vlad The Macedonian in ours. David Caravantes and his sidekick Marco took turns deflecting the opposition’s feeble attacks: They were the Class of the field and school was in session. Vlad came out of goal long enough to run down the field, step on a few of their players, drive a half volley through their goal and do the cha-cha over their tattered remains. Somehow though the game stayed close and entered the “Next Goal Wins” phase. We played two-dozen “last points” last week, so our opponents knew it was all over but the crying. I’d say you could put this one in the refrigerator, but Deepak is so cool in midfield we didn’t bring one. We scored first. Its what we do. We had beaten two of the three teams and the third was avoiding our eyes like I avoid my Bookie on Mondays. So we split a few more points and called it a night. Hey, it was fun, but the only triple header I need starts with tequila and ends with a nap.
See you next week, sports fans.