Gorillas Stats -or- Oh The Humanity!

After awakening Wednesday morning to the New York Post back page headline: "Gorillas' Gruser Goes Gruesomely Lame" I thought it could get no worse for the Gorillas.

I was wrong.

Yes, we had just dropped a game to a bunch of zit-faced bus-boys & bar-backs -- but we'd lost games we should've won before.

Yes, we had just learned that O.G. (Orginal Gorilla) Flemwad had played his last game of the year, as he had been called upon to serve his country -- but it's not like it was Ted Williams going off to fly fighter jets in World War II.

Yes, we had just learned that Busch Light was going to be on sale at Buy Low for $11.99 for a 30 pack this Friday -- oh wait, that was awesome. Disregard that one.

Yes, we knew that Gruser was likely in traction down at the Posey County Veterinarians Clinic, and they probably had shaved his goatee (along with his ass) in emergency surgery -- but it was probably time for a new look for him anyway.

No, what made it even worse, was the telegraph we got from the team doctor later that morning:

"Snyder has broken wrist (again.) Stop.
Will be out 4 to 6 weeks (again.) Stop.
Will likely ignore rehab and stretch injury and whining about it out for a year (again.) Stop.
It was Beans' fault. Stop."

I remember exactly where I was when I read that telegraph again and again. I stood naked eating a bagel in the company kitchenette. A pained look came across my face. I burrowed my brow. I fought back a tear. And I thought to myself, "I really, really gotta remember to get to Buy Low on Friday and load up on Blue Yummies."

So anyway, yah we effectively lost 3 Gorillas in one shitty loss this week past. The MRI results have not come back yet from McGru, but we expect he'll be out for a while, and will probably have to play with one of those cones around his neck to keep him from gnawing on his leg when he does come back.

Luckily, we had a roster of 412 guys this year. Now we're down to eleven. And one of those is Baumgart, who is just an awkward nap at 2 o'clock on a Thursday away from having a back transplant.

Roster moves may be on the horizon for the Gorillas.

At Least We Had Plenty Of Ice -or- San Diego Grill Is Better

Not too long ago there was an earthquake here in what they call "fly-over" country. It wasn't a huge earthquake, but it was big enough to wake everyone up and knock the picture of Geovany Soto off my nightstand. We don't get a lot of earth-shakin' round here - unless you count that time we tried to build a human pyramid between innings - so it caught some people off gaurd.

There are lots of ways to react to a stressful situation. When the ground started trembling that early morning, the reaction from the Gorillas ran the gamut; from ignorance (D got out of bed and stop/drop/rolled) to apathy (Jeff continued to simultaneously play poker and look up kitten anime on the computer) to confusion (JT yelled at his mom to let him sleep just five more minutes) to panic (I ran across the street and fucked the neighbor's wife.)

So last night, when on the first play of the game McGru added a couple of knees to his right leg, I was curious to see how the team as a whole would react to seeing our emotional and facial-hair-growing leader go down in such pathetic dramatic fashion.

The answer? Not so good.

Sure, we gave it a valiant effort for a while, coming in and scoring four runs in the 1st and three more in the 2nd, but the gruesome injury obviously affected the team's mental state as the game wore on.

I'm not saying the team we were playing (I belive they represent L.A. Grill) doesn't deserve any credit. Obviously they were able to make enough plays to win. And that - along with coming up with a restaraunt with shitty atmosphere, a gimmicky bullshit menu devoid of taste, and a fuck-face snotty wait staff - deserves to be acknowledged. I mean sure, they were mostly little punks that failed their algebra finals because they were home playing Mario Cart and listening to Taylor Hicks songs instead of studying. And sure, they hit the middle like ten times, threw behind runners, and were unusually ugly. But they won the game, and for that, the Gorillas salute them.

That's the thing about the Gashaus Gorillas - we're good sports.

And next time we find ourselves in a stressfull situation, we'll be prepared.

There's a guy down the street that has a 19 year old daughter that looks like she's ready for a tornado.

Gorilla Stats -or- Red Rockets? More Like Red ASSES! HAHAHA!!!1!ONE!!@~!!

Warm Bier, Hot Lesbians & Smokin' Bats -or- This Post Sponsored By Mr. Rob; The Letter J

Way back in the day, when the Gorillas used another website to update our countless fans across the interwebs, we put out a list of "rules." They were kinda gay, but they were more or less a guideline to what makes us so successful at winning bullshit softball games on Tuesdays whilst being fat, drunk and mostly nonathletic.

While we've been pretty fucking good at winning, we've been even better at having a helluva time. And somewhere in the haze of a post victory celebration last night, we figured out exactly what allows us to have so much fun without ever having hot lesbians at our games.

Actually, it's three things: Winning, Team Chemistry, and most of all, Bier.

The great thing about Bier is that it's an integral part of us winning games and having good chemistry. If you've ever seen us getting our ass kicked and yelling at each other during a way-too-sober 6 o'clock game, then you know what we're talking about. Honestly, some of these guys are real assholes, so if we weren't drinking and hitting softballs, we would probably be doing meth and hitting each other. So yah, bier is important.

Breaking it down even further, there are two requirements for enjoying our bier. The first, is that we bring bier to the games. Obviously that's the big one. While we rarely have issues with that factor, it's not to be taken for granted. We greatly appreciate it each and every time a Gorilla rolls in with some of that liquid gold. That brings us to number two: the bier must be kept at a drinkable temperature.

We suppose that if we were thirsty enough, or if the hot lesbians encouraged us, we would drink warm bier. But we'd rather not.

Just sayin'.