Gentle reader, another disappointing week. Our El FC lost a winnable game and I wasn’t able to correctly read my new bat’s movements. I feel like I’m in a Yogi Berra cycle where it’s déjà vu all over again. Or, in the (slightly emended) words of the magisterial David Coverdale, here we go again.
So, now we take on the always dangerous LAFC with a decimated defense:
To be fair, it’s not truly decimation until you remove 10% of your defense. Otherwise, it’s just sparkling despair.
Despite this feeling of despondency, I was curious about the outcome. Rosy fingered dawn was many, many hours away. In fact, the sun was beginning it’s journey west towards the land of the dead.
As this was prime bat time, I went to the Batty White’s box. Same bat time, same bat place, if you will. I threw a slightly rotting strawberry up in the air. Batty soared into the sky.
She flew over me and I was hit with her sonar once. She then flew away and I was hit again twice from the right side.
Yes, my dear, I understand. Here we go again.
El FC 1-2 Owners Who Seem to Really Care and Show Up More Than Once and Don’t Hawk Their Products
Louis de Ludovico
Viewing McKalla as his personal empire, Louis lives for the beautiful game. And food. Especially flamingo tongues. A chicken savant.
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