I must credit and thanks my good friend and teammate, Scott Warnock, with this fantastic newsletter. He has been writing these for our tournament for nearly fifteen years, and it never fails to capture the essence of the day...
The Boys of July? Al Classic will defend Ralston Cup they never brought home last year
Et un imbécile grands ruins August tradition. Each team faces key questions, some keyer than others
BERLIN, N.J.—At 9:30 AM here on August July 30, 2011 at Ralston Yards, the “original home of wiffleball,” the Ralston Cup Invitational Wiffleball Tournament will take place for a world-record 25th year.
The tournament has been a staple of August in North America for a quarter century, but this year the date was changed to accommodate a big fool who, despite the digital vacation-booking and schedule synchronization capabilities at the disposal of most Western humans in 2011, failed to plan a trip to France, of all places, on the correct weekend.
The date change by Cup commissioner Paul, in a break from his normal pharisaical* (see Handy Glossary) rule, which has been marked by diktats and verbal pummeling, is another worrisome sign of a gentler Ralston Cup era.
Other signs abound. Enjoying the keg has become optional, thanks to the Falcons. A wiffleballer of old’s idea of venturing outward meant a trip to Clementon; now folks go abroad. Whilst at one time technology was a bottle opener that made a burping sound when you used it, now many players blog, whatever that means, spouting taradiddle. In them days, kids were rightfully despised: Rabid wiffleballers once berated a 12-year-old until he cried. Players now bring their little fellas to scamper around the Yard and take a few cuts: “Whee! Good try little buddy. Next year you’ll actually hit the ball!” Soon, the rascals will get trophies just for attending. Back in the day, dates weren’t moved around to accommodate the utterly incompetent; no one cared about your perspective; wiffleballers not only pitched but hit uphill—in the snow.
Worst of all, Al Classic broke a sacred rule, forgetting the Cup last year, leaving it in the screened-in porch.
While it is the Cup’s silver anniversary, nothing special is planned. Folks will probably wait until next year for that, what with 26 being such a significant number and all.
Following is the annual unbiased, objective, eminently fair perspective on the teams vying for the Ralston Cup. Because this is an event driven by macro trends and themes that illuminate human nature, a kind of epic tragicomedy framed around a piece of orbicular plastic, this newsletter will ask a strong, poignant, sometimes rhetorical question facing each franchise. Read on.
The key question: Will the Ralston Yards proprietress demonstrate her significant sitzfleisch by not only tolerating the periphrasistic pleonasms of this publication but also enduring the calliopean, ululating gasconade that will again coat East Camden County in a hircine miasma?
Speaking of miasma, Al Classic’s Mordorites won decisively last year, marking their third title in eight years, which is the closest it gets to a dynasty lately. Five-time champ Gentleman Chris Scott sulked his way to a third MVP—and first in 18 years—smacking ten dingers while just avoiding having his nickname changed to “Diaper” in the National Wiffleball Registry. He should be $100 richer come game day (see below). Four-time champ McSpriggan brothers Mikey, a two-time MVP, and team marplot Brian “Bottom’s Up” Mac put aside familial and philosophical differences (“Let’s get drunk now!” “Maybe later”) to help their team triumph. Key question: This team has shown it can win, but can they return to the form that made them the idols of a generation of Berlin Auction-frequenting youths by embracing both kegdom and wiffleball supremacy?
Chris Matt’s Team has now been to the finals three straight years, so it’s no fun even talking about their overachieving and all that. They’re good now. In fact, even jejune Kurt has to deal with throngs of adoring fans; alas, his musical career did not prepare him for this. Chris “Chuck Howley” Matt may be rusty, as instead of training he spent countless hours writing on the InterWeb about the “tarts.” He covered all angles of this fascinating topic, including copious musings about makers of tarts, whom he calls “tartists.” Speaking of not training and pastries, Hayseed Butch will again use the tournament as a place to declare his commitment to fitness. Handsome, mysophobic Jason hit eight homers last year; he has reportedly mastered his “I know you’re watching me” wink while also perfect-ing a move with the bat, saucily slashing the air rapier-like. Key question: Are they better wiffleballers than tartists?
Uncle Mike’s Team, champs in ’04, were only a one-run semis loss to the champs away from the finals after a lackluster roundrobin. Dashing Uncle Mike spent the offseason merrily refining his translations of chess strategy to wiffleball. He promised a complex “castling” maneuver to enhance his team’s fielding. Failed vocal tartist Dat “Reno” Moore has continued his quest for personal development and self-control, although this castling/chess thing will push him over the edge: “Up two over…two? Argghh!” What fun global adventures has budding heartthrob Little Mike had this year? Tormented wiffleballers will surely know come Saturday night. What they didn’t know was that Little Mike hosted his own wiffleball tournament a few weeks ago: Nice of him to call the older players. Stalwart Uncle Bud will further his irenic mission in the face of all this madness. Key question: Can rook to f8 translate to wiffleball gold?
Three-time champs John Jr.’s Team won the longest game ever in last year’s quarters, an 18-inning victory over Paul’s. They are still tired. John Jr., who can be a little tetchy, reportedly will bring a claque of Berlinites misplaced through the decades by the removal of the peach orchards to cheer his team on. The return of Chris “Dino-Mutt” in 2010 helped this team immensely. He hit nine homers, pitched great, and somehow never lets anything bother him—including his own teammates’ tepid play. Ryan may struggle this year, not only because of his Sissyphean (sic) efforts to spout witticisms and parce qu'une partie de ce bulletin est en français, but also he must somehow come up with $100. Last year it was documented on the tournament chart for God’s sake that he bet Chris Scott against the Eagles winning the NFC East. Key question: Will Ryan pay up?
Paul’s Team, the winningest and most aged franchise, in 2010 solved their long-standing problem of losing in the finals: they lost in the quarters. If John Jr.’s is tired from winning the longest game ever, imagine this withered team’s state after losing: They are still limping and coughing. Ten-time champ and four-time MVP Pete, who is rumored to have once known how to hit home runs, could only gasp “Frankly….” Frankly, nothing came after. Paul, five-time champ and only Yard of Fame member, is looking forward to again rooting against his team in the tourney and criticizing Uncle Mike’s chess strategies. Andrew, who moved to Washington D.C. to be closer to John Runyan, was MIA until moments ago. He may not pitch, as he has tendonitis in his shoulder from waving at politicians. Speaking of being injured, eleven-time champ, four-time MVP, and 25-time cockalorum Scott follows last year’s hernia—which itself followed a torn tricep—with gout and a pulled hamstring. Key question: People say they’re done. They look done. They smell done. Are they?
Last year Blair and Billy/Rich were going to combine as The Blair Rich Project. Then they weren’t. Then they were. Then they finally did. This captivating drama was the most interesting aspect of their 2010 Cup. Building on that blandness, they’re back. Blair “Jacques” caused the Cup date to be moved. Now he won’t miss the event for his recipe-sharing tour of France: “La première étape, ouvrez la boîte de Spam." The six-time champ, who hasn’t hit more than quatre homers in nearly dix ans, can’t schedule a vacation around the one worthwhile obligation he has all year. Nah, we’re not bitter about it. The empty-headed micawber re-assembled a group of pierrots, including ’95 grotesque aberration title members Rich and Billy “Dirty Girl” Brown. 1995. Some current players weren’t even born then, and 98% of those who were around can’t remember that far back (Uncle George has a great memory). Rich was officially disinvited in 2010, honored that, but now rebelliously returns, so we do get to watch his uxoriousity-induced etiolation again. He supposedly spent the year weaving a jersey out of his wife’s hair. Eww. Further damaging U.S. international relations, “Dirty Girl” also went to France in the off-season, picking up grooming tips at the Paris Zoo, but even the French couldn’t help his wiffleball game. He too was hopeful, sadly, saying, “We're gonna try to try and do our best.” A friendly guy named Mike who’s in the family somehow is the fourth. Odd man out is Jim “Ichabod” B., who brings a fresh-scrubbed pleasantness to this team and wears goofy hats. He hit twice as many homers as the rest of the team combined last year, but he’ll sit the bench. That’s managing for you. Key question: Ce qui est là pour dire?
Al G’s Falcons won in ’06 but have mainly struggled since. Al “Blue Falcon” G. was terrible at everything wiffleball-related last year. This comment is not driven by meanness, because Al is nice. Pulchritudinous Rob “Pinkie” Spackleface fared well against any little kids in 2010 but was less effective against real players. After spending years fielding balls with his eye and other parts of his face, this year he will attempt the amazing feat of put-out by philtrum. The last two years they have gone with “Uncle” Ed and then Dave “The Stork” as their third. If you combine the two of them together and throw in some mud, you will be left with some mud. Key question: Can they find a third player to go deep in the tournament?
We will not talk about how Uncle John’s Team’s might do better if not for panjandrum John Sr.’s obsession with claims of his team’s unfair vilification by the media. (That’s called apophasis, in case you’re keeping track.) We will thus, as a good publication should, lead opinion in a more positive way. First, this team has a great runs/effort factor: They put so much into that one run last year! Uncle John serves as a custos morum in the face of the Cup’s excesses. People like that. “Uncle” Ed oozed onto their team last year, and he is a happy, well-built guy whose day will certainly come. Chris R. has transcended the destructive competition of the tournament. Red and blue state icon Uncle Bill “Brownie” is a beloved pitcher. Key question: Can they triple last year’s run total? (If so, and we believe they can, that will give them three runs.)
The winners get to keep the Cup all year—if they remember—and can wax thrasonically about their skills while opponents must, by rule, sit and listen. #
Handy Glossary
pharisaical: hierophant’s emphasis on strict observance of rituals.
diktat: an order or decree imposed on all by a hierophant.
taradiddle: pretentious nonsense.
sitzfleisch: the ability to tolerate something boring.
periphrasis: using more words than necessary.
pleonasm: using more words than necessary.
calliopean: piercingly loud.
ululate: to howl or wail.
gasconade: boastful talk.
hircine: a strong, goat-like odor.
miasma: noxious emissions; an unpleasant atmosphere.
marplot: one whose interference compromises an undertaking.
jejune: dull; insipid.
mysophobia: an irrational fear of dirt.
irenic: promoting peace or conciliation.
tetchy: easily annoyed; oversensitive.
claque: a group of people hired to applaud at a performance.
Sissyphean: when spelled right, an endless, unachievable task.
cockalorum: a self-important or boastful person.
micawber: an eternal optimist.
pierrot: a buffoonish character in French pantomime.
etiolate: to become pale, weak, or stunted.
philtrum: vertical groove below the nose and above the upper lip.
panjandrum: important or, and this is crucial, self-important person.
apophasis : allusion to something by denying it will be said.
custos morum: a guardian of morals; censor.
Handy Glossary Glossary
hierophant: chief priest of a mysterious cult or group.
thrasonical: bragging or boastful.
Ralston Cup Champs MVPs Home run leaders (1998-2010) | ||
1987-Pete, Scott, Blair 1988-Pete, Scott, Blair 1989-Pete, Scott, Blair 1990-John Sr., Chris R., Uncle George, Chris Scott 1991-Pete, Scott, Blair 1992-Al, Mikey, Brian, Chris Scott 1993-Paul, Pete, Scott 1994-Paul, Pete, Scott 1995-Blair, Jim, John Cane 1996-Billy, Bill Sr., Bill A., Rich, Dan 1997-John Jr., Ryan, Rob 1998-John Jr., Ryan, Rob 1999-Paul, Pete, Scott, Andrew 2000-Paul, Pete, Scott 2001-Paul, Pete, Scott 2002-Blair, Jim, John Cane 2003-Mikey, Brian, Chris Scott, Scott 2004-Uncle Mike, Little Mike, Pat 2005-Pete, Scott, Andrew, Uncle George 2006-Al G, Rob S, Greg C 2007-Mikey, Brian, Chris Scott 2008-John Jr., Ryan, Chris Dino-Mutt 2009-Chris Matt, Kurt, Butch, Jason 2010- Mikey, Brian, Chris Scott | Scott (unofficial) Pete Blair Chris Scott Scott Chris Scott Scott Paul John Cane Rich Ryan Rob Pete Pete Pete Blair Mikey Pat Scott Rob S Mikey Chris Matt Kurt Chris Scott | 1) Scott 87 2) Chris Scott 70 3) Rich 51 4) Mikey 51 5) Pete 50 Home run leaders 2003-10 1) Scott 52 2) Dino-Mutt 43 3) Mikey 35 3) Greg C 35 5) Rich 33 5) Spackleface 33 |
Team records (1998-10)
overall r. robin tourney r. robin runs
Paul (98-) 86-36-3 63-27-3 23-10 389
Al Classic (98-) 75-40-1 62-30-1 13-10 381
Al G Falcons (05-) 33-23 26-18 7-5 145
John Jr. (98-) 59-49-3 52-38-3 7-11 265
Blair (98-08) 54-40 42-31 12-9 268
Chris Matt (98-) 56-58-2 45-46-2 11-12 269
Blair/Rich (08-) 10-15 9-12 1-3 69
Billy (98-08) 40-44-3 36-34-3 4-10 187
Bud/Mike (98-) 38-73-1 31-61-1 7-12 193
John Sr. (98-) 13-86-1 8-78-1 5-8 80
Yard of Fame Inductees
2006-Paul
Players not invited back
2009-Rich
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