After last week's infamous 1-4 disaster that occurred on Creepywhite's watch, new interim head coach Veto vowed to bring changes in week 9. "This team needs discipline," he said with the grizzled look of a Marine Corps Drill Sergeant, "old school goddamn discipline!"
When the team arrived at Binks, Veto took them behind the pool room and lead them through a series of intense calisthenics. They did jumping jacks, sit ups and push ups. They stretched their quads and hammies, their triceps and gluts. The blood began to flow through their terribly out of shape bodies, their muscles loosened, and their foggy minds slowly began to crackle into focus.
Next they grabbed their cue sticks and headed out for a run. Resembling a military platoon jogging with their rifles, Veto lead them through the streets of Northeast Portland. They held their sticks firmly in front of their chests, and maintained a single file formation throughout. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU BEEN TOLD," they chanted in unison, "BUT CREEPY'S WAY IS GETTIN' OLD!"
They jogged for blocks, but it felt like miles. The team grow weary and confused. Willie gave in and hurled up his bean burrito lunch on the corner of 17th and Alberta. Overcome by the foul stench, Mixa gagged and began crying aloud for her momma. Chewy grabbed his cramping stomach and folded over in agony. Fortunately Bam Bam was behind him in formation, and was able to pick him up and keep him moving. Chewy's legs dragged on the pavement as The Bam carried him along. "NEVER LEAVE A TEAMMATE BEHIND," Veto snarled, "EVERY MAN COMES HOME!"
When they finally made it back to Binks - sweaty and stinky, with blood and vomit on their shoes - Veto broke out his portable chalk board and walked the team through some x's and o's. They went over cut shots, kick shots, caroms, combos, tangent lines, deflection, defensive strategies and more. Bam stood up and gave an eloquent dissertation on the art of the bank shot, and then Veto closed with a lecture on mental toughness that he likes to call: seizing the win when it's within your grasp.
"The team is finally exhausted and numb, both physically and mentally," Veto thought to himself. "By God they're ready!"
When the clock hit seven, Veto sent Bam Bam up for match one. His nerves were calm and his bank shot was steady. He set the tone for the evening, executing several flawless run outs and quickly engineered a victory for his team.
Mixa heard her name called next and jumped to attention. She screwed together her trusty cue Norton and walked to the table. She had the tall task of taking on Sweet Home's captain Caveman, but Veto knew she was ready for the challenge. "I was too tired to think," she said afterwards. "I just reacted to each situation and relied on Veto's intense training to take me home."
She looked confident and graceful, fully in charge of her destiny. After a brilliant time out by Veto, she put the eight ball right through her opponents blocker, sinking both balls and winning game one. The crowd erupted in applause! "Wow, what a tick shot by Mixa!" one man screamed. Fans cheered and whistled. One old lady fainted, and Binkstenders had to bring her back to consciousness with smelling salts and multiple smacks to the face. It was more than just any one win that drove the fans into this state of nirvana. Alas, the Binks mojo appeared to be back. A sense of hope had returned!
Mixa had to wait several minutes for the mayhem to die down before she could break in game two, but she would not look back from there. She maintained her momentum and closed out the victory in convincing fashion.
Furious George 2, The Meth Heads from Sweet Home 0.
The Caveman put his six up next, forcing Veto to called his own number. After a terrible mental error that cost him game one, the interim head coach charged back, at one point coming within one ball - and a mere fraction of an inch - from two consecutive table runs. He was determined to seal the win for his team. The pair of sixes blazed through 8 games in only 18 innings, with Veto coming out on top 5-3.
The Georges were up 3-0 and the win was secure. Veto had already surpassed the low expectations set by the previous interim head coach Creepywhite, but he was still not satisfied. They needed the points, and Veto wanted the sweep. "Go for the jugular boys!" he cried, as he paced the sidelines and rallied his troops.
But the sweep was not to be. Black Beard fought valiantly in match four, but lost the deciding hill-hill game in a heartbreaker. Chewy then fell in hill-hill battle of his own. "I would just assume jump on a hand grenade than lose a match for interim head coach Veto," declared a despondent Chewy afterwards. "Hell, I'd take a bullet for that coach!"
All in all, it was a solid win for Furious George. Veto had whipped the team back into shape and turned them into a respectable fighting unit once again. Confidence and pride was restored. "I knew we needed to turn this thing around, and fast," the interim head coach said during his Tuesday morning press conference. "We were slipping in the standings and, after the mental hell that we all endured during the Creepywhite regime, it was crucial to break the cycle and set a new tone around here. If nothing else, I feel we accomplished that tonight."
In other news, ex-interim head coach Creepywhite was not in attendance on Monday night. The ousted leader was reportedly at a mental health facility Oregon City, undergoing a series of intense psychiatric treatments. "He suffered a terrible blow two weeks ago during that epic meltdown," confirmed Nurse Ratchet, "and he is going to require therapy. Lots of therapy. And pills. And several pairs of clean underwear. And a white room with thick, padded walls. Perhaps even some electro-shock therapy. We'll just have to see how it goes. Coach Urquhart is very concerned and has authorized us to use any means necessary."
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