Process of Illumination

It's very late, even for Saturdays, but the upcoming week is already throwing me about my bed. Visualizing our offensive and defensive schemes, trying to do everything right, and picking match-ups with the opposing teams in our pool. With so much mental preparation to be done with less than a week until the Club Championships, who can sleep, anyway?

Tomorrow is Bravo's last practice of the year. It's been tumultuous at times, and yesterday night's last full-speed practice began with a near brawl between two of my hot-headed, but much loved, teammates. After some heavy flagrant fouls from both of them, one held the other back as he ran upline from the dump position. The other yelled his foul call, turned, and before anyone else knew what was happening shoved the fouler with both arms. A fight seemingly immenent, the pushed player walked off the field and was more or less ruined for the rest of practice. After several more points with full-on beef between the O and D, the practice turned into one of the most intense and productive of the year. Excellent way to finish.

But getting back to my original reason for writing. As I was thinking of my friends whom I'll see on opposing teams and thinking on the good times we'll spend in comraderie, I started thinking about my Bay area boys, specifically Matt Bruss, arguably the most handsome ape ever tamed. Arguably. I was looking forward to seeing him play and letting loose a heckle or two when it struck me. Fucking Justice League didn't even qualify for nationals.

Is that still shocking only to me? A team with THREE members of Team USA? Whose entire roster plays as if they're the heralded graduating class of Handsome Boy Modeling School? What could have happened to them? I listed in my head 10 names of players on the team, as I could name them off the top of my head, then wondered how those 10 alone couldn't qualify for nationals? Still a shock.

But getting back to Bruss. Apparently he got his head knocked in an altercation where details are hazy (at best) to all those involved. Apparently he's operating on Spurley's brain capacity. And apparently it still hurts. No, I don't want to out him as one of Justice Leagues' members who purchased a ticket ahead of time, but apparently his melon is so bounced right now it might hold him back from traveling. If anyone reads this and can contact him, tell his ass to get on the plane anyways, get ready to watch his girl win nationals and put back Shlitz with me as we reminisce on our halcyon days as players.

(on a side note, if there is something good to come out of Justice League's elimination, maybe it'll be that next year those that get cut from Revolver will form a team with a better name. Justice League? You're fucking kidding me. You can do better, on and off the field.)