This kickball thing is going to be good.
First off, I think this might be the one athletic activity where even I cannot hurt or embarass myself. The games themselves are only forty-five minutes long and we have twenty people on our team, so I can stand in left field, kick a couple of singles and be a wild success at the sport. Besides, I have always been a phenomenal heckler and look forward to that activity as my main contribution to team spirit.
Any attempts at athletic prowess really shine at the post-game flipcup competitions. Sure, it's a hackneyed game that probably should have ended with the acquisition of a bachelor's degree, but it never stops being fun. Flipcup and beer pong are the equivalent to being in a car with a group of people when Wilson Philips comes on the radio, and everyone kind of looks at each other out of the corners of their eyes and mumbles "I could change the station if you want... I don't care... whatever..." Then two minutes later everyone is singing "Someday somebody's gonna make you wanna turn around and say goodbye!" in screechy harmony. You may pretend you're better than it, but you're not, and you're gonna cave.
So yesterday at the rules clinic and scrimmage, there was kicking and there was drinking and there was flipping. There were excellent people full of entertaining stories that made me laugh my ass off. However, kickball kind of kills the rest of one's Sunday. I got home around 8 with a good quarter of a keg coursing through my bloodstream, finally passing out at 9:30 only forty pages into my second reading of the sixth Harry Potter.
Urban Fantasy, indeed.