Furious George lost again on Monday night, falling 2:3 to The Corner Spot Players. It was the George's fourth straight loss, and their fifth in the last six matches. Their last win came 5 weeks ago, under the stern leadership of interim head coach Veto. Since Urquhart's return from Italy, the team has gone 0-4 and is a dismal 6-14 in individual match play.
When pushed for comment on the rapid decline of his coaching skills, the fiery captain replied, "I don't know. I wasn't even keeping score, Toby was. Who cares? Screw you. What difference does it make? Its only a bar league anyway."
"Well," summed up Creepywhite afterwards, "a wise man once said that 'wisdom is knowing how little you know'. If that's the case, then I suppose Urquhart must be a freaking genius."
In a related story, attendance has sunk to an all time low as fans appear to abandoning their local billiards team in mass numbers. Once the pride of the neighborhood, Furious Georges now finds themselves reduced to the laughing stock of Alberta Street. Hipsters and hippies alike chuckle and sneer as they pass the garage door that separates the Binks pool room from the sidewalk. Drunks spit on the windows and hurl profanities towards the players. Young children - once proud and excited to see their heros - now whimper and cry, begging their parents not to make them walk past the famous pool room. "Suck it up son," one father was overheard telling his pathetic, sobbing young son as they tip toed down the avenue. Urquhart's bloated, lifeless body lay in front of them on the pavement, passed out in a pool of his own blood and vomit. Vultures circled above. "Life is full of disappointments."
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
WEIRD, WILD TIMES IN NORTHEAST PORTLAND... FURIOUS GEORGE BOTTOMS OUT?
Its weird, wild times in Northeast Portland; strange days indeed. The Georges dropped four out of five for the second week in a row, this time to the lowly American Legion. It was a bad scene, something out of an old Greek tragedy from the start. Bam Bam, Creepy and Veto all lost to opponents whom they should have beat, and all in embarrassing fashion. The only debate is over who pissed it away worse.
"What is it in the air tonight," asked one portly little journalist, and to no one in particular. "Its as if the life has suddenly been sucked from the belly of the great beast."
Mixa was flat out robbed. Her opponent double hit the cue ball in game one, then proceed to pocket the eight ball and celebrate as if all was right with the world. When asked if she comitted the foul, the con-woman replied, "I don't think so." Oh really, you don't think so? Puh-lease! Mixa fought back honorably, but could not overcome the foul stench of dishonesty that came in from the rain and smeared to the walls like sweat. It dripped from the ceilings, clung to her clothes, stuck in her hair; it burned her eyes like pepper spray! Oh dear God, she must have thought, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?
"Who would have ever thought we need instant replay in our own bar?" bemoaned one keen observer.
Willie was the lone beacon of hope for the Georges, a true shining light in an otherwise dark and stormy sea. Then again, who would expect anything less from Black Beard? Stormy seas are his muse. He played with confidence and command and won impressively, 3-1. If not for him, well, God only knows how ugly things could have gotten on this night. Anxiety and tension hung in the air like dust bunnies, floating erratically in the fog of cigarette smoke. "Clearly, something is not right here," cried one paying fan, who stubbornly ripped up his ticket stub and demanded his money back. A brief scuffle broke out as he engaged the event promoters with pointed words and flailing arms.
"Oh, where have you gone Joe DiMaggio?" pondered one witness. "He's dead," someone else sighed.
Has Furious George bottomed out? If so, then there is surely only one way to go from here: Up. If not, then hold on because the ride could get bumpy. Who knows, these are bewildering, heartbreaking times. For those who may have doubted it, the old weird America is still alive and well, brewing just beneath the surface in places like Binks on Alberta; The MouseTrap on Lombard; places like my street corner and living room, and yours. While no one can quite put their finger on the mystery of the old ghost, perhaps the words of a lost song can best sum up the feelings of this dejected fan, beat-writer, small time gun runner, and weekend bookie:
"What is it in the air tonight," asked one portly little journalist, and to no one in particular. "Its as if the life has suddenly been sucked from the belly of the great beast."
Mixa was flat out robbed. Her opponent double hit the cue ball in game one, then proceed to pocket the eight ball and celebrate as if all was right with the world. When asked if she comitted the foul, the con-woman replied, "I don't think so." Oh really, you don't think so? Puh-lease! Mixa fought back honorably, but could not overcome the foul stench of dishonesty that came in from the rain and smeared to the walls like sweat. It dripped from the ceilings, clung to her clothes, stuck in her hair; it burned her eyes like pepper spray! Oh dear God, she must have thought, WHAT JUST HAPPENED?
"Who would have ever thought we need instant replay in our own bar?" bemoaned one keen observer.
Willie was the lone beacon of hope for the Georges, a true shining light in an otherwise dark and stormy sea. Then again, who would expect anything less from Black Beard? Stormy seas are his muse. He played with confidence and command and won impressively, 3-1. If not for him, well, God only knows how ugly things could have gotten on this night. Anxiety and tension hung in the air like dust bunnies, floating erratically in the fog of cigarette smoke. "Clearly, something is not right here," cried one paying fan, who stubbornly ripped up his ticket stub and demanded his money back. A brief scuffle broke out as he engaged the event promoters with pointed words and flailing arms.
"Oh, where have you gone Joe DiMaggio?" pondered one witness. "He's dead," someone else sighed.
Has Furious George bottomed out? If so, then there is surely only one way to go from here: Up. If not, then hold on because the ride could get bumpy. Who knows, these are bewildering, heartbreaking times. For those who may have doubted it, the old weird America is still alive and well, brewing just beneath the surface in places like Binks on Alberta; The MouseTrap on Lombard; places like my street corner and living room, and yours. While no one can quite put their finger on the mystery of the old ghost, perhaps the words of a lost song can best sum up the feelings of this dejected fan, beat-writer, small time gun runner, and weekend bookie:
Grow old, I'm told
Things will come around you'll see
But I think I'll hedge my bets
Against my memory
These are the strangest days
Strange days indeed
Hunker down and stay dry friends.
All the best,
RJ Pinkerton
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
URQUHART RETURNS! SUSPENDS VETO, LOSES CRUCIAL MATCH AGAINST DIVISION LEADER
With little explanation, Captain Urquhart suspended Veto from Monday night's key match up against their divisional rival - and current first place team - the dreaded NOPO Ten Show. "I don't know why he suspended me," said a perplexed Veto afterwards, as hoards of reporters jockeyed for position on his front porch. "You all saw the text message he sent to the team. He didn't give a reason. I can only presume it had something to do with my performance as interim head coach two weeks ago. Maybe he didn't like the fact that I won by restoring discipline and pride to the team. He is, after all, a coach who prefers fear and intimidation over unity and a collective team spirit. What can I say, he's a ruthless dictator when it comes to stuff like that."
For reasons unknown, Urquhart forged ahead without Veto on Monday night. Unhappy, but respectful of his coach's decision, Veto stayed home. He sat on the edge of his bed for hours, gnawing on his finger nails and praying to the pool god Earl to watch over his team. The Georges were lingering towards the middle of the standings in the NOPO division, and their showdown with the first place team was a potential turning point in the session.
Sadly, it didn't take long to see that the team was not going to rally around their long lost, jet-setting captain. Instead, they watched in horror as his ship took on water and began to sink. Panic quickly ensued! Urquhart shouted orders in broken Italian, but no one responded. The team - alone and confused - took on the look of deer in the headlights. "What the hell did he just say," Creepy asked. "Does he even know what country he's in?" cried a confused Mixa. "Oh dear God, coach is rustier than an old gate," sighed Bam Bam.
The coaching was poor to say the least, and fans collectively gasped as Mixa, Creepy and Bam Bam fell quickly, and with little resistance. Then, as if to add insult to injury, Urquhart himself was swept in humiliating fashion.
The NOPO Ten Show 4, Furious George 0.
Thank God for Waylund, who was able to squash the Ten Show's momentum and salvage a small piece of Furious George's pride by winning the final match of the night. "Well, us grocers have an old saying," reflected the hero of the night afterwards, "don't worry about the spills in the first four isles when its time to stock isle five. You just gotta get out there and stock those shelves."
Waylund had prevented the sweep, but his win could not quell the discontent that was boiling within the team ranks. As the night wound down, controversy buzzed around the Georges like a pack of angry bees. Reporters flashed pictures and demanded answers. Did Urquhart come back too soon? Why was Veto suspended? Are Britt Hume and Creepywhite really Siamese twins who were separated at birth? And finally - and most important of all - is it too late for Furious George to recover in the standings? How bad, their loyal fans are now left to wonder, do they even want it this session?
For reasons unknown, Urquhart forged ahead without Veto on Monday night. Unhappy, but respectful of his coach's decision, Veto stayed home. He sat on the edge of his bed for hours, gnawing on his finger nails and praying to the pool god Earl to watch over his team. The Georges were lingering towards the middle of the standings in the NOPO division, and their showdown with the first place team was a potential turning point in the session.
Sadly, it didn't take long to see that the team was not going to rally around their long lost, jet-setting captain. Instead, they watched in horror as his ship took on water and began to sink. Panic quickly ensued! Urquhart shouted orders in broken Italian, but no one responded. The team - alone and confused - took on the look of deer in the headlights. "What the hell did he just say," Creepy asked. "Does he even know what country he's in?" cried a confused Mixa. "Oh dear God, coach is rustier than an old gate," sighed Bam Bam.
The coaching was poor to say the least, and fans collectively gasped as Mixa, Creepy and Bam Bam fell quickly, and with little resistance. Then, as if to add insult to injury, Urquhart himself was swept in humiliating fashion.
The NOPO Ten Show 4, Furious George 0.
Thank God for Waylund, who was able to squash the Ten Show's momentum and salvage a small piece of Furious George's pride by winning the final match of the night. "Well, us grocers have an old saying," reflected the hero of the night afterwards, "don't worry about the spills in the first four isles when its time to stock isle five. You just gotta get out there and stock those shelves."
Waylund had prevented the sweep, but his win could not quell the discontent that was boiling within the team ranks. As the night wound down, controversy buzzed around the Georges like a pack of angry bees. Reporters flashed pictures and demanded answers. Did Urquhart come back too soon? Why was Veto suspended? Are Britt Hume and Creepywhite really Siamese twins who were separated at birth? And finally - and most important of all - is it too late for Furious George to recover in the standings? How bad, their loyal fans are now left to wonder, do they even want it this session?
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