I am a proud member of the Schwetty Balls, and I’m just immodest enough to say that I think we are one of Park Slope’s top bocce teams. Last night, we improved our record to four wins and one loss. For my teammates who couldn't attend the match, I recapped it thusly:
Bobby Bocce, Migs, Brian and I were there, accompanied throughout by Schwettyfriend Benji. We were hanging in a booth waiting for our game and briefly met British Guy and Terrible Girl (also known as “Too Attractive for Her Husband” and "Looks Boring Though"), who said they'd be playing us and started warming up as they awaited their teammates. Lilly the Regular came up to us a few minutes later and asked what we were up to, and whether we would be losing tonight ("probably not," Bobby Bocce* replied). Turns out we were playing her team, Closer. British Guy and Terrible Girl were Josh and Lilly's teammates, along with some ringer they had brought along. You can refer to him as Annoying Guy with Capri Pants, though this moniker neglects my favorite part of his look, the Urban Mullet. Kind of like this:
He was annoying because he kept mulling around between shots commenting on every little thing going on, and saying things like "now we're bocce-ing!" and "ooh, heyy, whoa" and crouching near the cluster of balls peering intently at them as our team got ready to make our shots. Really annoying.
Anyway, we got going for Game One with Bobby and me holding down our usual end of Court Two against British Guy and Terrible Girl, and Brian and Migs manning the far end against Josh and Lilly. Bobby spent considerable time trying to figure out if they are actually married or not. Do any of you know? It may be unknown. And certainly irrelevant, so…back to the recap.
Bobby and I threw our first ball, Brit and Terrible wasted all four of theirs in terrific, Terrible fashion, and Bobby and I tucked in our last three for a four-fer to start things out. Two frames later and we'd taken Game One, seven-zip.
Urban Mullet subbed in for Terrible Girl for Game Two, and we turned in our usual Game Two stink-bomb. Josh and Lilly got three right away, we worked back to 3-1, 3-2 and 3-3, but then they opened it back up. Urban Mullet and The Brit (and I'll tell you another thing: The Brit was wearing one of those dress shirts where the collar is white even though the rest of the shirt is not, and that always ticks me off. You don't wear a shirt like that unless you're the CEO, or you're Lumburg from Office Space:
There is no third situation in which you can wear one of those shirts. I don't know. Maybe he's the CEO. It would help explain him having a reasonably attractive wife.) took advantage of a bad frame from Bobby and me to take two points and we lost the game, I'd say 7-4 or so.
You've all heard the story above a hundred times. We eat their faces off in Game One and then get
for Game Two, leaving us momentum-less heading into the rubber match.
* My top adjective choices: cocky, distracted, bored, drunk, sick to our collective metaphorical stomach and poop the figurative bed
In Game Three, we got off to a promising start and a 4-0 lead. Closer chipped away a little bit and got it to 4-3. They had one good chance to put us away: Josh and Lilly had the closest ball plus three in hand after all four of ours were out (and there was space there to get more points). But Lilly left both of hers short (taking six to eight minutes to plan each shot while I systematically gnawed off my arm at the elbow) and Josh uncharacteristically missed his too, and we were still in it at 4-4.
Well, Schwetties, I'm happy to say that on this night, the movie has a happy ending. With Terrible Girl cheering from the sidelines and showing her disappointment with each roll that went in our favor, and Josh growing more and more agitated, and Lilly grinding the match down to a virtual standstill (I'm serious - I like to think that time physically stops while she's lining up a shot, so that I don't actually age during this time; to think that I don't get that time back and crawl steadily closer to death waiting for her is too depressing to bear. Maybe this is why they're called "Closer" - you get considerably closer to death waiting for her. Also, Josh and Lilly are the oldest people in the League by 20 years, right? You'd think they'd want to keep things moving.), and Urban Mullet crouching near the balls in a manner that made me want to Gor-Don Smash** with every throw in the hopes that a ball would take a "bad" bounce into his face, the Schwetties were cool and composed. Bobby and I took a point for 5-4, and then Miguel made a set and first throw that Josh and Lilly couldn't beat and Brian calmly finished them off with a second point for 7-4. Frame! Game! Match! Schwetties!
After the good-game, good-game, good-games, Lilly was asking anyone on our team who would listen if we'd seen that her throw hit "the dead spot."
"No" I replied.
"Oh, yeah, I don't know," said Bobby.
"I think everyone hit the dead spot at one point or another" added the wise Miguel.
Translation: "Simmer down, Old Lady. Long live the Schwet."
After that, we downed the traditional ceremonial Jameson shot and headed out. I believe we're now tied for first in the league, pending the outcome of tonight's make-up against Abbiamo Palle. Bobby and I talked with PBR Street Gang a bit during our match. That's the team that made us feel very bad about ourselves in Week 1. They lost to Big Bob & His McLaren Rollers, so...we're looking good and are on a serious roll since our opening week setback.
Or, as Miguel would recap:
we won
See you soon,
Gor-Don
Endnotes:
* Yes, I do refer to Bobby by his bocce nickname outside the bocce arena.
** Gor-Don is my bocce nickname. It’s derived from a certain smash throw I like to use. There’s a special robot walk that accompanies it. It defies verbal description. I can demonstrate in an interview.
