Off Topic
Krill Preps to Run the Jack-a-M'ope Gauntlet
August 5, 2061: Marshall Islands – It is a rare day that a storm does not brew here in the Harshal Islands. It is unusual for the breeze to fade to nothing and ocean waves to leave the Pacific Ocean’s surface to fall toward shimmering glass. And yet you can feel the moment as fans arrive on trams from their ForeverLand vacation resort rooms to filter into Forever Park. There is a pause in the moment, now. And understanding that certain truths might soon become self-evident.
Their team—the Bikini Krill—Earth’s team, as it were—are sitting at 80-62, tied for second place in what has been a brutal Pacific division race with the Portland Lumberjacks, who are today’s opponent here at the ballpark, and who will be the opponent for the next four days.
A win of this series would make for a bit of relief among fans, who are now simply holding solid to hope that the team will definitely make it to that silly postseason tournament that they care so much about. Anticipation would be high, regardless. But it is wrenched even higher by the knowledge that the Krill, when finished with this four-game stint, will pack their bags and head to Sacramento for four more game with the Mad Popes. The M’opes, as it were, the club that stands 13 games ahead of the Krill and their quest for the Pennant that their GM is constantly saying is the only thing that matters—and that their GM has promised to deliver even when it was obvious what a lift that would be.
They laughed at their GM then, as well perhaps they should have.
And, yet …
And, yet…
Baseball is a game of hope. It’s a game of dreams.
Sweep the Jacks, says that hope, then sweep the M’opes whispers that dream, and anything is possible.
So, indeed, as fans filter into the ballpark that sits so pristinely on a lonely atoll in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the winds pick up. A storm brews on the horizon, clouds both dark and beautiful. Clouds filled with powers the us mortals may never understand. And, indeed, as even more fans Door In from places across the globe, that power builds and builds, and I swear that if you listen closely to the spaces between the gusts you can hear the calls of hope and dreams.
May they never end.
August 5, 2061: Marshall Islands – It is a rare day that a storm does not brew here in the Harshal Islands. It is unusual for the breeze to fade to nothing and ocean waves to leave the Pacific Ocean’s surface to fall toward shimmering glass. And yet you can feel the moment as fans arrive on trams from their ForeverLand vacation resort rooms to filter into Forever Park. There is a pause in the moment, now. And understanding that certain truths might soon become self-evident.
Their team—the Bikini Krill—Earth’s team, as it were—are sitting at 80-62, tied for second place in what has been a brutal Pacific division race with the Portland Lumberjacks, who are today’s opponent here at the ballpark, and who will be the opponent for the next four days.
A win of this series would make for a bit of relief among fans, who are now simply holding solid to hope that the team will definitely make it to that silly postseason tournament that they care so much about. Anticipation would be high, regardless. But it is wrenched even higher by the knowledge that the Krill, when finished with this four-game stint, will pack their bags and head to Sacramento for four more game with the Mad Popes. The M’opes, as it were, the club that stands 13 games ahead of the Krill and their quest for the Pennant that their GM is constantly saying is the only thing that matters—and that their GM has promised to deliver even when it was obvious what a lift that would be.
They laughed at their GM then, as well perhaps they should have.
And, yet …
And, yet…
Baseball is a game of hope. It’s a game of dreams.
Sweep the Jacks, says that hope, then sweep the M’opes whispers that dream, and anything is possible.
So, indeed, as fans filter into the ballpark that sits so pristinely on a lonely atoll in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, the winds pick up. A storm brews on the horizon, clouds both dark and beautiful. Clouds filled with powers the us mortals may never understand. And, indeed, as even more fans Door In from places across the globe, that power builds and builds, and I swear that if you listen closely to the spaces between the gusts you can hear the calls of hope and dreams.
May they never end.
