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San Francisco Angels Wood Bat Baseball Team Recap of 2003 season - Epilogue: Bad poetry and more! In mid-August 2003 the volunteer General Manager fired the volunteer Manager, who then took the team, with the sponsor's help, to Nevada to play the Reno Astros. They played their only games in new caps and tshirts as the "San Francisco Lightning, " winning one of the three games against the Astros. |
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Profanity Warning Profanity Warning Profanity Warning Profanity Warning Profanity Warning Profanity Warning Profanity Warning |
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This is an adult web site. Kids stay away! We stomp, we yell, we curse, we make fun, too. We use insults for results! We spit on buffoons! We clown on all the other clowns. This is an F-bomb weapons site. We hurl sensible profanity against the vulgarity of money. We expose self-deception. We wage war on the provincial creed, "Power to My Kind!" Our religion is baseball. If you can't handle the truth on this site, go away! |
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The Great Schism of 2003 In free verse:
All the while in denial, once winged in grace now unhinged displaced listing leader loses vaulting limbs for
leap of faith
to charmed chasm'd chaos! Angels absurd Hope rocked through the heavens! "Angels absurd!" Mission now abandoned.
Pulled in earthly screeches of separation, out to lunch untimely and lost concentration. ( "Eek!!": the "Angel" zongbird zings, "We ith snagged when she doth nag!") Too devoted to mirrors, yet losing view and vision, magooey and muddled and myth'd in deafly confusion. Looks too all swell shines bursting red-faced half-baked bottom line busting.
Attempts to "schedule in" retreating shadow of that faith, packaging the passion in pieces, until the fall is fleshed by Sophist-icaked Nicolo gavotte, devils food St. Vitus Dance, Philistine rot, a lot nought for thought!
"Lightning" team demon-forged from soulless shells of once-blessed Angels Worser still, they're all now French! Such febrile force, but summer's gone. ("Oh, perfidious-" Avignon!)
Our Inquisitiative religious editor and psychoanalytic scansion master Jerome Stanley Bodkins remarks:
Imprint of style is the goal of most everyone caught up in the baseball endeavor! This field is full of quirky characters and straightforward ones too. This is a creative field, despite all the numerological conditions of its layout. Standards and traditions are set and broken here. Since it's all or mostly men, it is largely viewed by women as either a significant waste of time or even dangerous, so they tend to shun their children from it, revealing a bias not unlike the time I saw Shawndalina Crawford smacking up her son to favor her daughter. But this quaint enterprise of baseball reveals the inner ambitions of boys and men, and their fantasies for the re-creation of the order of the world! To win in competitiion is the goal, but conjuring victory is open to methods.
Popular methods from other endeavors impose themselves successfully in this one. There's the Army style imbued by the generations of military personnel who have struggled through coaching careers. There are the self-denial rituals of Japanese baseball. There are the camaraderie styles of the many hard and fast summer baseball teams. There are the stern or earnest styles of the moral improvement crowd.
Here's a style: It is quasi-religious, since it requires passion and sacrifice. It is multi-racial, and so it reaches out. It is assimilationist, so it encourages the mix. It is open, so is not just friends. It is observant but patient, so it does not prejudge talent and potential.
It takes in all comers but guards against impositions of more restrictive styles or attitudes. It seeks to expand on common one-dimensionality; break out of habits. It rails against provincialisms. It is balanced, it is sober, it is self-critical, and it mocks fools and favorites. It is run on faith and the energy of the players on the field. It is the San Francisco Angels baseball team. We really do want to see what you bring to the table.
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Ask the Travel Director! We asked a scientifically-selected gender-neutral cross-section hodge-podge of our readership to submit embarrassing questions to the deceased Travel Director. There were no submissions but some obvious questions pour forth without much reflection: Say, Travel Director, why don't you have a cell phone? What? I said, why don't you have a cell phone? You are the Travel Director, isn't that what you call yourself? Doesn't a Travel Director need a cell phone? Well, I've made many phone calls and people don't answer their cell phones! That's not what I asked. How come you don't have a cell phone? Maybe if people knew you had a cell phone, there wouldn't have been nearly the number of communication problems suffered by the team in 2003! Now look here! That's not what the problem was! I don't need a cell phone! I was raised well enough without one. Why these days, it's dangerous to switch lanes on the freeway because of drivers with cell phones. Cell phones have dummied down the driving skills of Americans, and you want me to join in the degeneracy?! Well, aren't you always calling people who have cell phones? Do you ask them if they're driving, and hang up if they are? Well, no, of course not, that's ridiculous, ha-ha. But don't blame me for the plague of busybody cell phone use just because I try to contact people in time to make sure they know about the roster rules for a tournament! Did you know that I called twenty players before the first game of the Santa Barbara tournament and no one answered the fucking phone? So what happened when they did call? When they needed you, you didn't answer the phone! Now wait a minute, motherfucker! I don't like where this is going! I was busy working, away from the damn phone! You're blaming me for the inability to get the roster straight in Santa Barbara when I had one so clearly posted on this web site that even the demon Saints team used it against us! You didn't answer the question.. It wasn't a question, it was an accusation. You're just leading to your own conclusion. This isn't an interview. You're just trying to increase the very slow click rate. Maybe if we finished the stats, showed off more pictures, and presented more pornography, we'd get better results.
So why don't you have a cell phone? OK, Bitch, I'll get a fucking cell phone, so shut up and get out of my face with your accusatory bullshit. Listen, I'm the one who's right, everyone else is wrong! So you agree that everybody disagrees with you? Out! I'll swat you, you little fly! Shut the fuck up, get the fuck out of here, and stay the fuck out! Thank you for your time.
Shiva is about to get his hands on Parvati |
Nosy little fucker aren't you
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EXPIRED!!! The San Francisco Angels Wood Bat Baseball team exploded and expired Tuesday morning, August 5, fallen by a fireball foisted by a fulminating fumigator from his philistine parapet of pretentious perfidy. May the holy orb strike him- 1,2,3 you're out! The deceased will be unable to get to Grand Forks but the tournament director Gerry Foster might want to sell the remains for chemicals.
A contributing factor to the team's sudden demise was the failure of most players to pay the Grand Forks Tournament travel fees by the deadline. A group airfare deadline had come and gone, and the team wasn't about to get stuck with a large number of unpaid fares dangling around at the last minute. The travel director already went through multiple embarrassments over the 2001 Grand Forks trip, especially the mass of debt built up from incomplete airfares and costs of adding players. The four checks received for this year's trip were mailed back Wednesday August 6.
This is the time of year that summer teams disband. As the NBC World Series in Wichita and the AABC Stan Musial World Series in Battle Creek complete the elimination process toward their respective championship games, the eliminated teams break up and send their players on their way. The Angels had originally planned to continue on, spurred by some summer season success, for post-season competition at the Labor Day Weekend tournament in Grand Forks, British Columbia. But although the team completed a 40-21 record, the second part of their ambitious schedule was disappointing. There were no hopeful signs that the team would succeed in Grand Forks.
Angels' staff were volunteers. The main volunteers, Roland Nazar and Jim Brown devoted enormous effort to keep the team going and getting it to succeed, just as they had done in the last ten years. The team succeeded at a first place finish in the local AABC Rural League for the first time. The Angels played in over 60 games, going up and down the West Coast playing highly-competitive summer teams. But while the team continued to play at a competitive level, they couldn't quite get through to meeting their goals. Staff were distracted by the demands of their private lives and the team lacked money.
The San Francisco Angels Wood Bat Baseball Team thanks Jack Wolf, Dan Kingman Sr., Doug Price, Steve Holt for their volunteer efforts. The players should congratulate themselves for making personal sacrifices not normally expected from a summer baseball team- you displayed commitment and passion the memory of which you can draw on in your future activities. The team thanks the support of Jack Wolf, Mr. Gray, Mr. Herbert, Mrs. Dianda, and Mr. Shannon, all of whom stepped in to help with necessary team costs despite their confusion about (and even outrage over) this anarchist collective posing as a semipro baseball team.
The team's death came at a convenient time for the weekend staff, since they wouldn't be focusing on the team again until late Thursday at the earliest and didn't have to break out of their routines.
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The San Francisco Angels Wood Bat Team rose from the dead in fits and starts during the winter of 2003-2004. The General Manager and the former Manager reconciled their personal issues. On February 28, 2004, the Travel Director obtained two cell phones under a Sprint Family Plan, for use by the 2004 Angels. The Travel Director's phone is 415-377-3099. He intends to keep it on the entire year. What's the battery life for these things?
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