By Spence Blazak
Let me start off by saying this is a Wookiee post unlike its older brothers before it. In a very bad way. Imagine that there were four older brothers who were kind of cool, then a fifth one born who has one leg longer than the other and two different colored eyes. Not in a hot way, but in that disconcerting way. Also, he always brings in dead pigeons in and places them at his father's feet on top of his Ugg slippers. Like a dog. This blog post is that odd, doglike brother. Its not pretty. You won't laugh a lot. It will break your heart. I promise you that. You might cry. It ends with me in the rain cursing the heavens. Heck. Why take my word for it?
I've analyzed the statistics and it is still very possible for us to make it to the playoffs. The way I see it is that the free agents are the kids who didn't have any friends to get a team together, so I think we will win by pure superiority in morale. The Wookiees haven't even played their best ball yet. All fingers are crossed.
As the season has progressed, so has the friendship of myself, James, Evan, and Rips. We begin to immediately ask the most important question: what should we name our dog in the house that we live in next year? We have several possibilities:
Waffles
Charlemagne
Shawshank
The Dude
Vonnegut (Vonn)
Vermeer (Vermy)
and my personal favorite…..Facebook
We then begin to debate whether we want a big dog or a small one. I put my Croc-clad foot down and decree 3 Things:
1.) It must be small
2.) It must be taught how to give me "paw"
3.) It must know I'm his Mummy
Someone then points out that it seems like the main purpose of this dog for me is that it provides the optimal amount of comedic material. My response: "Are you going to tell us Darth Vader is Luke's father next?" I immediately mark that person in my book of people who little Facebook won't be able to see until I've taught him how to attack.
Yes. That was the most exciting part of that week.
Also, I've managed to befriend one of the school's pitchers for the baseball team, and have recruited him for the Wooks. He says he has friends on the team who would also be interested in playing. I can't believe it. The Wookiees have just drafted the infield of a D 1-A baseball team. I jump up and click my heels out of joy.
GAME DAY
I go outside, send the text for the troops to rally in the middle of Bishop Beach, and wait to see who shows. I only see Evan. As happy as I am to see his smiling face, we need 3 more players. James is at class. James's roommate Joe is mad at me for party-boying him in my boxers…can't say I blame him. Bayo, Reggie, and Rommel have disappeared. Rips is driving on Route 18. Dalton tore a tendon in his leg. Then every single other person was in a Physics Lab. Who knew Physics was a thing?
Just when all hope is lost, Mike and J.Y. (the pitcher) show up. Sadly, the rest of the baseball team was busy. I look around and see that we are only one person short. I lay down in the giant botanical Rutgers "R" and fake cry. Strike that. I lay down in the pile of wood chips where the "R" used to be….they tore it out from the last 5 times I laid in it.
I decide to call Vinny and tell him we are one man short and ask if he can help us. Time is ticking. He says he will call us back. We wait by my knock off Blackberry in a swell of anticipation, hoping, wishing, praying for our season to continue. Ticktockticktock. That intramural champions t-shirt is so close I can almost feel its polyester based glory.
The phone rings.
Vinny: "I have players for you. You're good"
Trumpets sound from the heavens. The angels cry. God himself high fives me.
Vinny (cont.): "You can make it here on time though right?"
That son of a bitch. Got our hopes up just to tear them down. We get our second forfeit because we were didn't make the bus. And we didn't make the bus because we were waiting for his call. I didn't realize "Vinny" was Italian for "Judas".
I don't remember much after that. Its mostly spurts of memories. Our expulsion from the league was so traumatic that my mind became was put into a Boggle. Not just that night, but for the last month until today. In fact, I don't remember much of anything at all. Days pass.
I get a PS2. I play the entirety of "God Of War". In the end, I killed the Ares himself , and take his place on Mount Olympus. I toss the controller onto the desk, tear my pants off, and yell "AAAAARRRRREEEEESSSSS HAAAAAS FALLLLLLEEEEEEN". I go out into the hall to run around in excitement….and the door blows shut and locks behind me. Everyone with a key is off duty or in class. I go and nap in the lounge while wearing my Taylor Swift 2011 Tour t-shirt and in my boxers. Stupid Ares.
I lose another week of self awareness. I find myself on a Sunday night just returned from a trip home. James regales me of a party with a Flyers cheerleader in attendance. She looked like Taylor Swift AND was funny.
James: "Yeah man, you really missed out. You would have LOVED her!"
Me: "AAAAARRRRREEEEEEESSSSS!!!!!!"
Two more days evaporate into the oblivion that humanity refers to as "the past". I'm in line for takeout. Sub night. I grab the piece of paper to fill out my order. There is no bacon. I'm very mad. I write "BACON!" and put a check next to it. I also write that my name is "Cat Daddy." I chat with Rips and make my way throughout the line. Then I hear the Indian sub lady yell: "HELLO! CAT DADDY? CAT DADDY. NO BACON!"
A week passes. I've just given blood and am sitting at a table with two Jewish girls and a guy who spent the entirety of the time we were hooked up to the machine either making AIDS jokes or complaining about not getting into NYU film school. I try to escape him and the snack table, but Dr. Scarybeard makes me sit back down for 15 minutes.
NYU D-Bag: "WOW! Every freaking person here is Jewish! This is crazy! You're not Jewish are you, bro?"
Me: "No. Just Polish."
NYU D.B.: "AWESOME! HIGH FIVE!"
*reluctant and painful slap of hands*
Girls: "We're Polish too! We actually just visited there this summer!"
Me: "Wow! See anything cool?"
NYU: "DID YOU GO TO ANY CONCENTRATION CAMPS! LIKE THE SCHINDLER'S LIST ONE?!?!?!"
Girls: "Well we went to one and it was just so sad, but that one you're talking about is in Germany-"
NYU: "NO ITS NOT!"
I get up to walk out. A frightening ginger girl on duty stops me. No, not Kelly. She takes me back to the table.
Dr. Scarybeard drops a vile of blood. Everyone looks over. I make my move and bolt for the door, barely making it back to my dorm. I also have 5 bottles of apple juice in my pocket. Spence 1, World 0. World leads series 654-9.
Time passes, children grow, leaves change color, and I continue my trek among the living. I dress as a fruit ninja, Holden Caulfield, and the Dude for Halloween. I rediscover hot chocolate. A girl pees in my bed. The circle of life continues.
Then I open my email. It reads: "Dear Spencer, We regret to inform you that you have been put on probation from the RIFFL. You may not do any sports until you come meet with the coordinator of RIFFL. You've hurt the organization by not showing up, and we want to have a discussion." I might as well be out for good, because as much as I love the Wookiees, that love is nowhere near as powerful as my hatred for 25 minute bus rides across campus.
Thus ends the Wookiees.
Or does it? If I do decide to go meet with the RIFFL Big Wig, then the Wookiees are eligible to enter……INNER TUBE WATER POLO. The Wookiees just might see another day.
As Abraham Lincoln once said: "It take more than a bus to stop the power of the human spirit!"
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