Oracles recap: 5/22

To whom it may concern:

I write on behalf of the (Baltimore) Oracles, who would like to apply for the job of Senior Ass-Whupper at your firm. I believe that last night's pyrotechnic display, highlighted by grandiose displays of athleticism and derring-do, serves as a accurate representation of the team's ability to open a can of whup-ass on the unsuspecting and unprepared.

After yet another stressful search for our very own field of dreams, the Oracles had to settle for a field of ... nothing rhymes here. Anyway, the Oracles settled for a field that left them wedged in by walking paths and another team's puny and pathetic game. Luckily, the opposing team (whose name I never learned and don't care to know) had some elderly negotiators who talked their way onto a neighboring patch of grass. That almost allows me to forgive them for their obsession with using newspapers for bases on a windy day. They had to be a team of theoretical physicists, because they sure weren't in tune with reality.

As is par for the course for the Oracles, the game didn't get underway until the cows had come home and the kickball pansies were already wrapping up their "games" (better suited for kindergarten recess if you ask me). Despite high-wind conditions that grounded lesser teams, the Oracles shrugged off a quiet first two innings to take the game and shake it into submission, like Britney with her baby. Oh yeah, we went there. Nothing's too soon for the Oracles.

Why, you really had to be there to take in the full glory of the team's devastating broadsides, with Andrew "I don't need no alibi-bye-bye baseball" Griffey's deep bombs burying the other team under a flurry of runs. We can play a little defense too; witness Adam "Jumbo Slice" Morgan's ability to turn double plays like a New York hooker turning tricks in the governor's mansion.

To put it in the simplest terms, the Oracles are the shiznit. We can whup ass (on a good day) like no other. We aren't a team of superstars and college dropouts with big muscles and small brains; no, we are a team of specialists and experts, using psychological warfare (trash-talking Tim is our chief weapon) and singles to score runs and ruin lives.

So we present this game to you as our resume, our calling card, and our claim to excellence. We expect to be hearing back from you soon.

Sincerely,
Brian Wagner
Oracle #00 (License to Thrill?)


In other news:

Comeback Playa Award goes to Christy because ... she came back. Yeah. I would commend her batting skills, but unfortunately, all of her superstar teams at UVA seem to have taught her to avoid getting on base. We'll have to rid her of that proclivity. Also, someone give that girl a map of the Commerce building she works in; getting lost is not something an Oracle should have to deal with.

Most Valuable Peep award goes to Lucinda because I got the best photos of her whacking the ball (that's how we roll around here, highly arbitrarily). Next week we'll give a retroactive award to Stella (the dog) for excellence in unusual fielding (no pictures, unfortunately)

Special thanks to the folks at the Tune In for serving us with kindness, greasy food, and plenty of beer. If this e-mail had a sponsor, it would be those guys (well, we do have a sponsor, straight from Sesame Street. Today's email is brought to you by ... the number 5!).