Maggie, Mother of Invention

As you all know, I love handball. The only thing that could improve handball (they do call it "the perfect game") would be to make it less of a sausage fest. Vanilla Fresh, Flynn, and Doktor Smith are all attractive in their own sweaty, hairy way, but I'd really like to spend more time in the presence of attractive, lycra-clad women. Alas, my attempts to convert the ladies of the Flock to handball have mostly fallen short. This is due, in part, to the nature of the game. Unlike badminton, where coed play works nicely, handball just doesn't lend itself to mixed doubles very well, and even less to singles competition between the sexes. The ball is small and very dense so it can be painful to hit, and it takes considerable strength to make a good shot that hits the front wall the way you want it to. It is telling that in competitive handball there is no mixed doubles category - it just doesn't work.

I was talking with one of the more competitive females in the Flock (Maggie), and she was advocating for racquetball. She argued that it didn't hurt like handball, and that the racquet gave her, a small person (5'4"), the ability to hit with sufficient power to be competitive.

Now, I was an avid racquetball player at one time. I suffered from a wicked case of tennis elbow because of it until I saw the light and gave up that tool of the devil, the racquet. I have since been heard to ridicule racquetball as a "game fit only for little girls and children," but it occurred to me that we might be able to level the playing field by taking the racquet away from the larger, stronger player. We discussed it, and Maggs agreed to give it a try.

It was a resounding success. We used a racquetball and played to 15 as is the custom of that game. Maggie used her racquet, and I went in armed with only "my mitts," as Marv would say. Although I lost all three games, it was an excellent workout, and the scores were close enough to indicate that with due diligence I could possibly win in the future - which is exactly the type of situation that motivates me the most.

Since then, I have identified only two problems with our new invention:
- The woeful lack of lycra in Maggie's wardrobe
- It needs a name

If you have a name idea for our fabulous new game - something that conveys its hybrid nature - let us know! We'll give you naming credit when we become famous...

Resolution

There has been an unsettled issue in the Flock for some time now... Beginning with this post back in June, Vanilla Fresh and I have been waging a quiet little war on each other.

In that post, I proclaimed that I was undefeated in singles to that point in the year. In the comments, VF rightly reminded me that he had beaten me in a single game. To which, I responded that a single game did not a match make, and the battle was on.

Because we usually play doubles or cutthroat, it was quite a while before our next game of singles could be played. When it finally did happen, I was victorious after a titanic struggle, making the score one to one in our best of three series - and then the others showed up so we switched to doubles. The final outcome was postponed again.

Finally, this past Thursday we met to play singles. No other players showed up to join us for the entire session, so we were able to play a full best of three. VF took the second game on the strength of some wicked serving and strong forecourt play, but I was able to win both the first and third games by using arcane Sith techniques and a few nigh on to crippling dive shots.

I walked from the court feeling like I'd been hit by a bus, but vindicated. My winning streak was intact - I could hold my head high while I limped home. I felt positively gladiatorial for about 24 hours... and only for 24 hours because the following day I played in my first badminton tournament.

I signed up for the men's B class of the UW intramural badminton tournament. The guy I played - a grad student from Hong Kong - absolutely wrecked me. In the first game I scored two points, and in the second I scored four. For those of you not familiar with badminton (old school) scoring, that's six points to his thirty!

It wasn't all that bad, actually. He was a very good sport about it, and we joked the entire time. It was made even less painful when I found out that the other two Flock competitors (Flynn and Beckers) met with similarly horrible fates. We all walked into it expecting nothing less - we have been playing badminton for about 6 weeks - most of the people we were playing against have been at it since they were in elementary school!

So, the great Handball War of Aught-Seven is over, and the victor has had his ego stamped down by badminton, and all is right with the world...

Black Vatican Sports News

The 2007 US Open of Handball will be going down October 18th-21st, at the Los Caballeros courts in Fountain Valley, California. If you can't be there, you can watch the live webcast - details here!

In local handball news, His Sinfulness seems to be recovering from his slump, winning two games of cutthroat in convincing fashion yesterday. The Pontifex Niger had been stinking up the courts for the last few weeks, until illness and exhaustion forced him to take about a week off. The rest seemed to do him some good, and he was back to his usual shaved-ape-like form.

The Infernal Pontiff was quick to point out that his fellow players were also on their games. "Vanilla Fresh was making some great shots, and Doktor Smith was playing well all over the court - until his penis came unscrewed."

His Sinfulness was referring to a brief stoppage of play, when the top ball from the Good Doktor's apadravya came off, fell down his pant leg, and rolled across the court. When it was brought to his attention, he quickly reattached his penile accessory and the game continued, but apparently the phallic wardrobe malfunction ruined Smith's concentration. "Having something fall off of your junk has got to unnerve a guy," said the Black Pope, adding, "I thought it was from my tongue bar initally - really glad I didn't pick it up and put it in my mouth."

In other sports news, Flynn and His Sinfulness took to the badminton courts last night with their new racquets in hand. Despite the horrible crushing they both received at the hands of two more experienced players from Asia, the racquets were a success.

Flynn's Qiangli B 86 (shown at left) performed well, helping the artist play better than pitiful badminton. Although His Sinfulness literally had to drag the slothful one from the house, he had a good time once he got to the gym. As he left the courts, the Canadian was heard describing the racquet as "cool as fuck," and "more smackier."


His Sinfulness was also impressed with his new Pro Kennex Titanium Pro 727 (shown at right). "It's light, quick, graceful, and maneuverable - everything I'm not," said the Sable Primate. Black Vatican insiders say that His Sinfulness has been spotted in private moments stroking the new racquet and speaking to it in a low voice. "We'll show those skinny Asian players, won't we Precious?" The Precious could not be reached for comment.

Handball continues to ROCK!

It's been a while since I bored you all with handball stories... If you're not into that, read this instead.


I woke up this morning with back pain. Perhaps it was because handball has been, as they say, "F*ing Metal!" lately. The regular players (Herr Doktor, Vanilla Fresh, Flynn, and myself) have all improved dramatically. There is an insane amount of spin on most serves. There is heroic diving for the low, short kill shots. There are floor burns to knees and elbows. There is serious sprinting to retrieve the long "fly kills," and back wall turnarounds that hit the front wall at warp speeds. In short, we have improved to the point that we are now pretty well killing each other every time we play.

Some highlights of the past week's games...

-Flynn dove for a shot, missed, and ended up landing on the ball. It was trapped under his throat - gave him a bruise and a sore throat for several days.

-Doktor Smith dashed to the left for a low midcourt return, and forgot to stop before he got to the wall. He hit it so hard with his left side that I clearly heard his teeth clack together. He recovered and finished the game in good style, but he definitely got his bell rung pretty solidly.

-I dove for a shot down front on the right side, missed, landed on my right side, and slid into the right wall back first. Wouldn't have been too bad if my head hadn't hit the wall too. I jumped right up, but within about 30 seconds, I knew I was a bit more hurt than I had originally thought. I'm still not sure what I did to myself, but it wasn't a good thing.

-Flynn slid to a shot on his right arm, giving himself a bloody floor burn. Still scabbed over as of this morning.

-I went into yesterday's game with a scabby floor burn on my right knee from a previous game. (Yeah, that's my knee over to the left.) Early on in our best of five doubles set, I dropped to my knees to make a quick return and tore it open. I left blood spots and smears on the floor for the remaining three and a half games... and I didn't notice until someone pointed it out, and even then I didn't care. The games were that good.

God DAMN I love me some handball! Can I get an AMEN?!

The Outcome (for Mayren)

The struggle was titanic. The earth shook, the air was rent with screams of agony, and wildlife ran to higher ground. At times, both of the gloved gladiators stood and gasped for air for a moment, then returned to the fight with renewed vigor. When two elemental forces such as these collide, there are rarely any survivors...

The long awaited handball match between Flynn and HSBP took place Tuesday at the Half-Acre Gym on the campus of the University of Wyoming. Flynn put up a valiant effort, but the Black Pope successfully defended his winning streak. His Sinfulness remains undefeated in singles in 2007.

In keeping with tradition, Flynn did take a nasty turn-around shot DIRECTLY IN THE EYE. It was so hard that after hitting him with a loud crack, it bounced all the way to the ceiling! Luckily he was wearing goggles this time, and although it was scary for a second, he was fine.

Friday afternoon, His Sinfulness faces off with Vanilla Fresh, and anyone else who wants to have a go. Are you the one who can end his winning streak?

Do ya feel lucky, punk? Well, do ya?