The Best of the Second Half of Subpar Season XX

And here’s the rest of the game recaps I liked from the Subpar Season. Feel free to comment, like, subscribe, hit that bell, etc.


Tadashi woke up to his house being on fire. “Guh!? I can’t believe the incivility of our nation has burned my house!” he said, nonchalantly starting to save things from the flames while the crowd cheered. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. “Who could it be? My new neighbors, the Burninators?” he asked, as the crowd laughed. He opened the door. “Hello, it is I, your new neighbor, the Burninator,” said Robert Deadford as the crowd applauded, recognizing the cameo. “Excuse me for being rude, but have you noticed that MY FREAKING HOUSE IS ON FIRE?” tadashi exclaimed as the crowd laughed. “Oh, yes, terribly sorry about that. My barbecue accidentally tipped over while I was grilling some spicy kielbasa, and it spread over to your property,” said Robert Deadford. “Well, I’m gonna kielbasa you if you don’t help me BBQ-lean this place up!” said tadashi as the crowd laughed. The screen faded to black as a bassline played.

As the shot faded in, Tadashi walked into the living room to see it was on fire. “Guh?! The clowns in Congress have torched my couch the way they’ve torched the Constitution!” he said, as the crowd laughed. Once again, a doorbell went off. “It better not be the freaking Burninators again!” he said, opening the door. “Greetingz, it ees I, Mr… uh, Rotaninrub, your friendly neighborhood watchman,” Robert Deadford said while wearing a trenchcoat, sunglasses, and a fake beard. “Mr. Rotaninrub? Sounds like a foreigner. Talks like one too. We don’t take too kindly to your kind here in Americaland, friendly or not,” said Tadashi as the crowd cheered. “But sir! Your house! It ees on fire!” said Robert Deadford. “Yeah, well, in Americaland we have a little saying. ‘Clean up your own fires’. Why don’t you go see yourself out and learn some idioms, idiot?” said Tadashi. Robert Deadford shrugged at the cameras as the crowd laughed and the screen faded to black.

The shot faded in, and Tadashi walked into the kitchen to find that it was also on fire. “Man, this just isn’t my season. Clearly, this is the work of globalists who are conspiring to keep the common man down in favor of critical race theory!” Tadashi said. The crowd laughed, and the doorbell ringed again. “Oh, I will deport that Rotaninrub myself if that’s him!” Tadashi said as the crowd laughed. On the other side of the door was a dragon. “Uh, can I help you, Mr. Dragon?” Tadashi asked. “Yeah, you can help me if I use your house for tinder,” the dragon said. “Well, sir, in Americaland, we believe in things called ‘property rights’ and it is my right that you—“ Tadashi started to say. “And it’s my right to torch your house down with all your outdated ideas,” the dragon said, as he continued to breathe fire on the place.

Tadashi proceeded to run away screaming. The dragon turned back into the human form of Robert Deadford as he shrugged at the camera and said “It’s a living!”

Game Notes: Please, both of you, get some defense. 6 errors in a game combined is unacceptable.


Eddie Collins has felt like an outcast on the Bastards since day one. KungFu Grip and the rest of the team kept calling Cocky “Steady Eddie”, which especially hurt when the consistency Collins was providing was below-replacement level batting and fielding. That, in turn, caused his performance to drop further, and he was stuck in a negative feedback loop going into the series against Les Royales de Montreal.

Meanwhile, kalensc had been taking a hands-off approach to moderating his baseball team, only making one move all season: drafting Alex Rodriguez. Though not quite as poor as Eddie Collins had been for the Bastards, A-Rod had been far closer to A-Fraud (USER BANNED FOR RIVALS.COM PUN) than the 12th overall pick in the Super Draft. And with the Royales drifting further and further back from contention since the selection, the rabid fans of Montreal have blamed basically everything on Rodriguez, flipping cars, starting fires, and doing all other fun Montreal sport rioters do to protest A-Rod. He too was a man isolated in a team sport.

And so it was in the bottom of the 5th that the two of them found themselves near each other. Eddie Collins slapped a single, and stole second base. “Hey, nice wheels, Cocky,” A-Rod said to Collins. “Finally, someone around here that knows my actual name, A-Rod,” Collins replied. “What’s a guy gotta do to get as fast as you?” A-Rod said. “Oh, you know, the usual sorts of things. Rolling barrels, lifting imaginary pianos, lying on the floor while moving your legs like a wheel. And, of course, smoking three packs a day,” said Collins. “Huh. I never tried any of those. What do you say we hang out after the game and swap exercise tips? I’ve got some very useful and very legal substances that would give you a boost,” said A-Rod. “I’m already taking enough heroin for my asthma,” Collins said.

The game ended with little incident in a 6-4 win for the Bastards. At the Buntsville Tavern, Collins and A-Rod were sitting at the counter. “You sure your teammates don’t care if you skip out going to the bar with them?” Collins said. A-Rod shook his head. “Nah, my teammates don’t care even a little about me. Unless I carry them to the division, everyone in Montreal will blame me for their collapse,” said A-Rod. “I know exactly what you mean. The mean folk of Buntsville keep calling me a bastard and ‘steady Eddie’ and just generally not being nice. Do they think I want to go out there and hit like Bill Bergen?” said Collins. “Yeah, I can’t go one at-bat without hearing ‘merde’ from the crowd or even my teammates. Heck, some of them have accused me of injuring Pedro Martinez, who started our little spat by saying I have no personality!” said A-Rod.

“Oh, your team’s fans and teammates do that injury blaming thing too? Every week, someone new on the Bastards gets hurt, and they blame me for it!” said Collins. “That’s pretty awful. What actually happened to them?” said A-Rod. “Oh, I don’t know. For instance, I saw that Mel Ott didn’t have his humors properly balanced, so I got the team doctor to bleed him a little. And now I’m the bad guy for looking after my teammate’s health?” said Collins. “Yeah, I get you. I tried offering some Clear to Ken Griffey Jr., and he punched me in the face saying ‘this is for the Seattle Mariners!’ What a bunch of goobers. I’m so glad I could finally find someone who understands me,” said A-Rod. “Me too,” said Collins.

Suddenly, KungFu Grip and kalensc burst in through the Buntsville Tavern doors. “Heard a Bastard of mine was hanging out with the enemy. Can’t abide that,” said KungFu Grip. “I must ban any who would use a parachute account to avoid probation,” said kalensc. “Oh no! It’s our awful owners! We got to get away, Cocky!” said A-Rod. “I’m sorry, A-Rod, but I can’t let the team down. I must turn myself in,” said Collins. “No! Don’t do it! They’ll tear you to shreds!” said A-Rod. “And while they’re doing that to me, make sure you get yourself out of here and pretend you were with the rest of the Royales all along,” said Collins. “No! I can’t just abandon a friend like this! Wait, I actually can. I’m freaking Alex Rodriguez. HEY KUNGFU GRIP, I FOUND YOUR BASTARD,” A-Rod yelled. “Thank you, mysterious friend! Hey, I think I recognize you. You’re a baseballer! How would you like to be a bastard?” said KungFu Grip. “Oh… he’s definitely a bastard. I’ll remember this, A-Fraud,” said Collins. “I’ll remember your team getting relegated, Steady Eddie,” said A-Rod as he walked away. “Yeah, you’re still getting banned, A-Rod,” said kalensc.

Game Notes: Collins and A-Rod went a combined 5 for 8 with three runs between them. Good for them!


“Neva thought I’d be back in da ring again afta dose days,” PASS THE MASH thought to himself. Yesterday, he received a letter of challenge from title-holder Beet for a four-round fight to close out the first half of the fighting season. It had been years since PASS THE MASH competed on the comma separated circuit, but, now, he was finally invited back, and by the title-holder no less. It was time to train. He ran up and down stairs, he punched the rosin bag, he broke bats over his knee, he deadlifted buckets of baseballs; heck, he even squeezed a baseball until it burst, all set to the cheapest cover of Gonna Fly Now money could buy. PASS THE MASH had been broke since his title days, you see.

But the singular day he had to train for his showdown with Beet was over, and, the next day, it was time to step into the ring. PASS THE MASH couldn’t even ask his old towel boy for one more go at it since it was on such short notice. “Not to worry, I believe that she’ll be perfectly adequate for the job,” Beet said, as he introduced the temporary coach he hired for PASS THE MASH before the bout. “Kid?!” PASS THE MASH said incredulously. “Hello, PASS THE MASH. Yes, it is I, Clown Fundamentals. The police have allowed me to continue my undercover work in trying to bring you to justice for your petty breaking and entering, but I want to help you beat this guy,” Clown Fundamentals said. “But why?!” PASS THE MASH asked. “I have to play this guy 23 times in the next three months, I could use him broken,” Clown Fundamentals said.

“Listen, I’ve read the scouting report on Beet. Nicknamed ‘The Machine’, he doesn’t break. But that’s why you got to hit him when he bends! Here, have this special energy drink,” Clown Fundamentals said, offering PASS THE MASH a water bottle. “Nah, I truly appreciate it, kid, but da only thing I can have in a fight is some mash,” PASS THE MASH said before taking out a bottle of mashed potatoes that he began to drink. “Gross. Whatever. Anyway, you have to make sure to get to Beet early—once he’s locked in to a lead, he’ll keep you down,” said Clown Fundamentals. “Thanks, kid, but I think I know what I’m doing,” PASS THE MASH said as the two of them stepped onto the ring for round 1.

Beet got to an early striking lead in the round and, despite PASS THE MASH turning on the aggression later and scoring some hits, fended off the contenda’s punches long enough to outlast him for a round one victory. PASS THE MASH went back to his corner. “Man, it’s been so long since I been out dere… how da heck did I eva do this?” he said to Clown Fundamentals. “That’s not what the contender I idolized growing up said! The PASS THE MASH I know would always dig deep and do whatever it took to win,” Clown Fundamentals said. “You’re right, kid. Pass the mash,” he said, and Clown Fundamentals gave him his mashed potato bottle.

Beet and PASS THE MASH returned to the ring for round 2. It was another close round, but, once again, Beet simply outworked and outstruck PASS THE MASH for the judge’s decision. PASS THE MASH came back to the corner exhausted. “The judges robbed me! I clearly hit him with tha uppacut!” he said. “Yeah, once. Beet hit you with that string of punches halfway through so fast that you didn’t even react. That immediately blew the round for you,” Clown Fundamentals said. “Well I ain’t letting the judges decide the next round. I’m gonna go out there and show dis Beet what a real vegetable looks like,” said PASS THE MASH, once again drinking his mashed potatoes.

PASS THE MASH was correct that the judges didn’t have to decide anything in round 3. It was a slaughter. PASS THE MASH was barely saved by the bell after the severe beating he took, and came back to the corner bloody and bruised. “Hey, you sure you can still go?” Clown Fundamentals asked, wiping the blood away. “Of course I can, kid, yougotta just work through dese dings as a contenda,” PASS THE MASH said. “Look, no one will blame you if you just forfeit this fight. You’re clearly on the ropes, and it seems inhumane to throw you back out there. You’re already a former shell of yourself due to all your concussions, and you’re only going to get more if you try to stick it out,” said Clown Fundamentals. “Pass the mash, kid,” PASS THE MASH said. “But–!” “Pass. The. Mash. I gotta do it for da family,” PASS THE MASH said, drinking again from his mashed potato bottle.

The fourth round was much different from the previous one. PASS THE MASH fought through his bloodied face and delivered blow after blow on Beet. He had built a decent lead to win the round, but knew that his only hope of winning the match at this point would be by knockout. So he continued to take risk after risk. And then, with twenty seconds to go in the round, he saw Beet in a vulnerable position and went in to strike. Beet counterpunched PASS THE MASH, and delivered the knockout blow. “Enjoy the taste of canvas. The taste of the Royal Division will be mine. The Machine, this one was for you,” Beet said as PASS THE MASH lied knocked out on the canvas. Clown Fundamentals silently walked up to PASS THE MASH with his mashed potato bottle. “Kid… was I a contenda?” PASS THE MASH asked. “Yes,” Clown Fundamentals said, with tears in her eyes. “Don’t cry for me, kid… smile… for da world,” he said, before passing out.

Game Notes: Felix was set up to fail, and deserves no blame for this loss.


Tadashi woke up on a boat. “Huh, I thought I was just snoozing, but I guess I was cruising as well,” tadashi said as the crowd laughed. He walked out of his room and came to the deck. He noticed something was off, even more so than waking up on a boat after going to bed at home. “Guh?! Why’s the boat not moving?” tadashi asked no one in particular. “Oh, yeah. Hey there. It’s Chamale again,” Chamale said. “Chamale? I thought you were never going to be heard from ever again!” tadashi said. “Nothing is Ever Given,” Chamale said, looking straight at the camera. “Dang, I thought the crowd was going to eat that one up,” Chamale said.

“Look, pal, you’re the straight guy, and I’m the funny one. Capisce?” tadashi said. “More like, ‘capsize’,” Chamale said, looking at the camera again. No response. “Man, it’s not like anything you say is actually funny,” Chamale said, and the crowd gasped. “Now, now, this is my show,” tadashi said. “And this is my boat. And your show got cancelled,” Chamale said. “And you were never heard from again,” tadashi replied. “Touché. I suppose we might as well call a truce, since we’re just filler teams right now in the grand scheme of things,” Chamale said. “And your boat is definitely a filler!” tadashi said and the crowd laughed. “Ugh, it’s like they’re all robots programmed to only respond to your voice,” Chamale said. “Nonsense! They’re a live studio audience that only laughs at what’s funny. Of course, paying them seems to open them up to finding more things funny than not,” tadashi said.

“Anyway, we’re all getting distracted from the real issue. Why am I on your boat?” tadashi asked. “Oh, you don’t remember? I was going to do some 999 stuff by kidnapping 8 people and having them go through some stupid convoluted bullshit murder mystery game, but I chickened out after kidnapping you,” Chamale said. “Uh… why?” tadashi asked. “Every game is boring for me. I’m too good at everything. Take the Super League for example. I won the Expansion Cup on my first try. I need some entertainment, and I figured kidnapping 8 people would make things interesting,” Chamale said. “You have a weirder definition for interesting than my ex-wife,” tadashi said, as the crowd laughed. “I wish I could kidnap this crowd,” Chamale said.

“So, now that you’ve got me and have given up, what are you planning next?” tadashi asked. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get this boat unanchored and sail off into the sunset. Not much else for me to do around here,” Chamale said. “You could try to win the Sub-Par League, you know,” tadashi said as the crowd laughed. “I wasn’t even joking!” he added. This time, Chamale laughed. “It’s a bit late for that. I already have switched to playing the, well, Switch, and trying to find good co-op games. Do you have any recommendations?” Chamale asked. “The only co-op game I play is called real life,” tadashi said, as the crowd broke out into a huge standing ovation. “Alright, going back on the boat murder plan,” Chamale said as he shot tadashi.

Game Notes: The winning run was scored on a wild pitch by Joe Nathan with the bases loaded. Probably would’ve been an infuriating loss if I was a Centrists’ fan.


“Attention personnel. Landing aircraft in 5… 4… 3… 2…” The Luna Lander shook as it impacted the Earth’s surface. “You know, I really should recalibrate the damn thing to account for 4/4 time instead of 13/8. Ah well, it’s good to be back… wait, where the hell did we land?” mrnoun asked his ship. “We have landed at Christmas Island, mrnoun. There is little known about the Island recorded here in the database. I need you to fill out this exploration guide with samples of every rock, plant, animal, and especially music,” the robotic voice said. “That’s so right. There’s no point exploring a planet that doesn’t have good music,” mrnoun said. “Please, mrnoun, remember. Christmas Island is part of Earth. There is not likely to be any music with alien time signatures here,” the robotic voice said. “Fine…” mrnoun grumbled, as he put on his astronaut suit and left the ship.

Immediately, one of the locals found mrnoun. “Uh, greetings mrnoun. I knew you’d visit the sunny shores of Christmas Island again,” the local said. “I have no memory of you nor of this place,” mrnoun replied. The local rolled their eyes. “That’s what you said the last time. Once again, I’m the holy poopacy of Christmas Island, pleasure ‘meeting’ you,” the holy poopacy said. “Computer! Search all records for this ‘holy poopacy’. I need to know how to deal with these primitive locals and their religion,” mrnoun said into his suit. “You know I can hear that every time, and it upsets me every time. Why don’t you remember visiting Christmas Island? Or at least remember to avoid it?” the holy poopacy said.

“I am but a simple passenger of fate. Destined to float from one beacon to the next in search of a home that will accept me and my ways. And, I guess the Sub-Par League team kind of forces me to go here too,” mrnoun said. “If you can somehow remember the existence of the Sub-Par League, you should be able to remember the Seagoats. We’re in the Gentoo League together, you know,” the holy poopacy said. “That can’t be right. There are only nine teams in that league. I would definitely remember a team as alien-sounding as the Seagoats if I had ever played them before,” mrnoun said. The holy poopacy sighed. “Great. Looks like I’ll just have to unleash what you called the ‘Christmas Island Curse’ back on you again to get rid of this annoying harassment. Guards?” the holy poopacy said.

mrnoun didn’t know why, but he began to get chills. “Computer! I am afraid. Have any of the rock samples turned up anything?” mrnoun asked. “You never got a rock sample,” the computer replied. “No!” mrnoun slammed his fist into the ground as a musical band surrounded him and the holy poopacy. “You know, I still am unsure of whether Fear of Music or More Songs About Buildings and Roads is the best Talking Heads album. Maybe we’ll just have my friends here play the entirety of both albums and have you decide,” the holy poopacy said. “No! I cannot listen to such uninspired 4/4 pop drivel! It pretends to be alternative but is just as vapid as My Sharona! Computer! Do not take any musical samples from this hellhole, I need to burn it to the ground!” mrnoun shouted.

And so he did.

Game Notes: Sending out Dennis Eckersley two innings in a row is brave, but perhaps not wise.


“Grr! I’m a Misanthrope!” Faustoan Bargain said as he attempted to look menacing. “Uh, arf! Arf! I’m a corgi!” Jampact said while mimicking a dog’s paws with her arms. “And, scene. Great job getting into the characters, you two!” the improv teacher said. Faustoan Bargain and Jampact went and sat back down. “Wow, I never thought improv would be this tough!” Jampact said. “Yeah, it really requires you to improve yourself to fit in! Get it? Improve? Improv?” Faustoan Bargain said. “You’re going to need to improve on your jokes if you want to get me to laugh,” Jampact said. “Ooh, great one! I’ll write that down for the next scene,” Faustoan Bargain said.

“Wait, writing stuff down for improv? That completely goes against the spirit of improv! It’s all supposed to be improvised!” Jampact said. “They’re a little like stage magicians, professional improvers. They’ll use some sleight of hand to distract you, like asking the crowd for a word or a place, and then simply put that word into a pre-written scene,” Faustoan Bargain explained. “I don’t know, I’d like to believe that they aren’t fake. At the last improv show I went to, I went with Hype. One of the members of the troupe asked the crowd who the best boy in the audience was, and everyone easily picked Hype,” Jampact said. “Well, what was the sketch they did afterwards like?” Faustoan Bargain asked. “That was the best part! They invited Hype on stage and used him as a character in a murder mystery… where the damning evidence was buried… hmm. I’m starting to think that they pre-buried that bloodied bone and would’ve ‘found’ a shovel to dig it up or something if Hype wasn’t there,” Jampact said.

“See, now you’re getting it. Improv that is full improv is extremely tough. Coming up with something funny on the spot is asking a lot. But it is great to practice improv as a way of practicing real-life social situations,” Faustoan Bargain said. “What, you’re trying to be more misanthropic?” Jampact said. “Maybe. At the very least, I’d like it if my team took an improv class where every sketch was about playing baseball better,” Faustoan Bargain said. “And I’d like it if there was an improv class where every player who got hurt for the Corgis magically got better,” Jampact said. “Both of these can be easily arranged. We’ve even got 7 games against each other in a row scheduled!” Faustoan Bargain said. “Perfect! I’ll meet you in Minneapolis where we can do the theatre of our Sub-Par dreams!” Jampact said.

Sometime later, the Faustoan Bargain and Jampact had gathered their teams at Misanthrope Meadows, where each of them attempted to use the power of improv to save their seasons. “Alright, number one rule guys, is ‘say yes’!” Faustoan Bargain instructed. “Listen, when we go out there, I don’t want to see anyone being vague and noncommittal. If you think of it in the moment, just say it!” Jampact said. “Alright, begin scene!” they said in unison. El Shaddai was the first to move. “I’m God, and I will smite all nonbelievers,” El Shaddai said. “Cut! Come on, don’t negate other people’s existences in the scene. Especially if no one else joins you first!” Jampact explained. “Alright, let’s try again people. Begin scene!” Faustoan Bargain said.

No one else moved an inch. “This is stupid,” a voice in the back of the group said. “Who said that?!” Jampact yelled. “It’s just me, Teddy Roosevelt,” Jesse Burkett said as he walked forward. “Alright, great job, Jesse. We have an actual character here that people can interact with! Now, someone else, help him out!” Faustoan Bargain said. Rube Waddell got up. “I’m Abraham Lincoln, and I think slavery should be legal again, and I hate your hippy New Deal socialism BS,” Rube Waddell said. “That is appalling, Rube. President Lincoln would have no idea what socialism was!” Jampact said. “That’s the part of that you take umbrage with?” Faustoan Bargain said. “Look, you can’t just make everything up for improv. There has to be some agreed-upon reality for a scene. And the fun of it is finding those boundaries. But temporal ones like that should be called out immediately,” Jampact said. “This is extremely stupid. We might as well play the actual game of improv we were gathered here for: baseball,” Faustoan Bargain said. “I agree, though, after our last conversation, comparing baseball to improv makes me think you’ve somehow pre-written this game’s outcome…” Jampact said. “Uh, end scene!” Faustoan Bargain said as he guiltily scurried away.

Game Notes: Rheal Cormier with the save! How about that.


Honk! Honk! mks5000 honked the Hague Hautomobile. “Let’s go Volk Hammer! Time to honk the heck out of the Tugboats!” mks5000 said. “Sir, please, I’m trying to drive. Don’t take the Hautomobile out of H, please,” Volk Hammer replied, having been resigned to driving duty after struggling to find any consistency in his bat. “Quiet, Volk. I’m trying to have a good time,” mks5000 said. “What, beating the Marmosets 3 out of 4 times in South Dakota to ice the division wasn’t good enough for you?” Volk Hammer said. “Volk, we just had to spend 4 days in South Dakota. No, it wasn’t good enough for me, and I hope it wasn’t good enough for you because that is even more depressing than your slashline this year,” mks5000 said. Volk Hammer grumbled as the Hautomobile approached the Suez Canal.

The Hautomobile swerved into Sinister Stadium’s parking lot and proceeded to crash into one of the ballpark’s walls. “Heck yeah! Nice driving, Volk!” mks5000 yelled as he got out from the roof. “You know very well that you took control of that wheel and are very much responsible for—“ Volk Hammer responded. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever. We’re in the building and ready for this filler series against a filler team. But… something seems off,” mks5000 said. Despite driving a hole in the building, no security, staff, nor really anybody came to greet the Honkbalers. “Volk, this is the right place, right?” mks5000 asked. “First of all, did you see any other baseball stadiums around here? Secondly, yes I’m fucking sure. We played here a month ago!” Volk Hammer said. “Was no one here then, too?” mks5000 asked. “Yeah, there were people here. Specifically, the Tugboats. The final game was pretty memorable. The Marmosets were on a hot streak, and we weren’t doing as good against the Tugboats as we should’ve been. We actually lost after one of the Mariano Riveras couldn’t record an out and gave up 2 runs in the bottom of the 9th,” Volk Hammer said.

“Huh, I don’t remember that all. How did you remember it?” mks5000 asked. “Because you actually put me in the lineup and I hit a dinger. Anyway, I heard the Tugboats had been struggling with their absentee owner, but the players and staff weren’t absentee until now,” Volk Hammer said. “Time to explore!” mks5000 declared. And so mks5000 and Volk Hammer started walking through Sinister Stadium. “I’m pretty sure Pander’s Southpaws played in a stadium with this name, though that was definitely a sinister ballpark in the true sense of the word. This just feels like one of those abandoned amusement parks that Jake Paul decided to record a vlog in,” mks5000 said. “You mean Logan Paul,” Volk Hammer said. “Why the heck do you know which Paul brother did that?” mks5000 said. “There is a lot of free time down in the minor leagues when you’re as good as Jarred Kelenic,” Volk Hammer said.

The two of them continued to walk all over the stadium, except for the visitor’s locker room since the rest of the Honkbalers were there. “Woah, check this out. The Suez Canal Tugboats Kids Club!” mks5000 said. “’Take a picture with the Tugboats’ mascot, the Never Given’,” Volk Hammer read off a sign. Next to the sign was a cardboard cutout of a picture of the Ever Given stuck in the Suez Canal with a hole that a kid could stick their head out of at the front of the ship. “You know, I’m going to say that this is more than a little tasteless between the pun and the incident it’s punning off of,” Volk Hammer said. “’Kids can drive the Ever Given every Sunday after the game as part of kids’ day’. That’s kind of cute, there’s a mini-pond over there where kids can drive a boat,” mks5000 said, pointing out said pond. At one end of it was a mini-Ever Given. The duo quickly noticed something was off. “Is it just me, or is the ship the kids can drive—“ mks5000 started. “—Is too wide to ever move down the river?” Volk Hammer finished.

mks5000 and Volk Hammer continued walking down the public concourse of the stadium but still found no Chamale nor any of his Tugboats. “Did we get the schedule wrong? Maybe we’re playing in The Hague,” mks5000 asked. “No, we’re supposed to be here… hang on, did you hear something?” Volk Hammer said, startled by a noise. “Yeah. Huh. Sounded like a door opening,” mks5000 said. Suddenly, a voice behind the two of them shouted “Boo!” mks5000 sighed. “Chamale, I appreciate the effort that went into your weird scare tactic, but trying to turn Sinister Stadium into a ghost house is not actually going to make your baseball team better,” mks5000 said. “~Ooh!~ I’m not Chamale, I’m Bropotkin! OooooooOOOOOOhhhh!” Chamale said. “Yeah, Chamale. Like I said,” mks5000 said. “Aren’t you scared? You’re in the most haunted building in the Sub-Par League, filled with souls of the danged!” Chamale asked. “Yeah, because 26 of those danged souls are you and the Tugboats. Gottem. Honk honk!” mks5000 said as the Honkbalers easily defeated the Tugboats.

Game Notes: I wonder if the Mariano Rivera that gave up 2 runs in this game was the same one that gave up 2 runs in the last Honkbalers @ Tugboats game. I also wonder if they pull a Daniel/Henrik Sedin and just constantly switch which Rivera they’re pretending to be.


“Aw man, I’ll never big the big girl on campus,” Clown Fundamentals said to herself yet again. “Why stop at the campus when you could be the big girl of space?” a voice boomed down to her. “What the? Who said that?” Clown Fundamentals asked. “It is I, master of the universe, prince of prog-rock, and sometimes-owner of the Luna Landers, mrnoun!” mrnoun said as he beamed himself down to Camden. “How the heck did you do that, mister?” Clown Fundamentals asked. “All is possible with the power of prog. Now, I believe you had a problem? Or should I say, progblem? Which is that you don’t listen to enough prog?” mrnoun asked. “Wait a minute, I talked to you before! You’re the wacko that left in a huff after I said that the Talking Heads were a good band!” Clown Fundamentals said.

mrnoun grimaced. “Hmm, are you sure it was me? There are a lot of princes of prog after all,” mrnoun said, trying to pretend that didn’t happen. “No, I am like 100% sure it was you. Although that guy didn’t say they were the master of the universe…” Clown Fundamentals was no longer as sure of her deduction. “Exactly! It couldn’t have been me. It was just… an imitator of me. Like all the prog rock imitators,” mrnoun said. “No one would ever pretend to be a prog rock band. It’s way easier to pretend you’re a trap artist to go viral on TikTok or whatever,” Clown Fundamentals said. “Tick Tock? What does a metronome have to do with a virus?” mrnoun asked. Clown Fundamentals rolled her eyes. “The master of the universe doesn’t know about TikTok, going viral, or really anything about the internet? Huh, I guess that tracks with a guy stuck in the 70s,” Clown Fundamentals said.

“Listen, I am the master of the universe, and the universe has yet to be remastered. Not my fault moronic youths have decided that triplets and hi-hats are the peak of music instead of flowing symphonies. You know Beethoven would’ve loved prog-rock,” mrnoun said. “Guh? I’m a stupid millennial that buys avocado toast, kills Circuit City, and bloats the Sub-Par League with anti free market teams. What is this ‘Beat Haven’ you are referring to?” Clown Fundamentals said with heavy sarcasm. “He was the Ninja of his time, I suppose. But that’s neither here nor there. I came down here because you asked for help becoming the big girl on campus,” mrnoun said.

Clown Fundamentals sighed. “Yeah, but I’m running out of time. Homecoming is right around the corner and I still don’t have a date nor a spot as royalty,” Clown Fundamentals said. “Have no fear, the prince of prog-rock will easily earn you royalty once those foolish ASB members see my visage,” mrnoun said. “Uh, not to deflate your confidence, but, again, we’re dumb millennials that listen to ‘crap’ music and the Applebees’ song instead of true intellectual stuff. They don’t care about your princehood in the slightest,” Clown Fundamentals said. “Maybe not my princehood itself, but I’m sure they’d be impressed by my future tech of the Luna Lander,” mrnoun said.

“I’ve got a great idea. How about you tell the organizers that they can throw Homecoming on your Luna Lander if they elect me to homecoming royalty!” Clown Fundamentals said. “Brilliant, let’s go right away to the student council president!” mrnoun said and the two of them flew over to Camden High School. “Greetings, student council president, I see that you have scheduled this year’s homecoming in an abandoned warehouse. Here is my proposal: you throw homecoming on this guy’s ship, the Luna Lander, in exchange for me being homecoming royalty!” Clown Fundamentals said. “And I get to pick the music,” mrnoun added. “And what music would you be playing?” the student council president asked. “Prog-rock,” mrnoun said. Clown Fundamentals buried her head in her hands. “Absolutely not,” the president said. “I’ll never be the big girl on campus…” Clown Fundamentals said.

Game Notes: Wanderlei Bolton can only do so much. Six runs given up with just three of them earned means he still would’ve gotten the loss with perfect defense, but still.


“Mwahaha! Finally, the plan has come fully to fruition!” Faustoan Bargain laughed to himself in a dark room. Monicro entered, and a set of candles lit up surrounding Faustoan Bargain. “Gasp!” Monicro said. “It was you all along!” she continued. “Ah… the precious hero finally makes her appearance. Well, you’re too late! The plan is already in motion!” Faustoan Bargain said. “No! I won’t allow you to bring the great evil back into the Super League!” Monicro said, as she got her sword ready. “Ah… so quick to go to violence,” Faustoan Bargain said. “It’s what anime and JRPGs taught me—the only way to stop the great evil is with swords and friendship,” Monicro said.

Faustoan Bargain looked at Monicro. “Uh, you seem to be missing one half of that equation,” he said. “Look, the season is very long, and I might need my Megalixers later. I can’t risk using them on Eddie Collins, Steve Reed, or Rube Waddell in case somebody more important dies! Like me! What if I die? How then will we have enough Megalixers to stop the great evil?” Monicro said. “Well, if the party leader dies, it’s game over. You know that, right?” Faustoan Bargain said. “I hate that game mechanic. Tris Speaker should be able to revive me easily!” Monicro said. “Alright, sure, but there’s also just four weeks left and your team is three games down in the division. I think now is exactly when you should be using your revive items,” Faustoan Bargain said. “Never! What if there’s a postgame dungeon with a superboss that wipes half the party every attack?” Monicro said.

“Listen, I don’t mean to sound rude, but you’re quite far away from the Macho Men with this party. Plus, that team uses an even more nefarious JRPG tactic of brainwashing your party members,” Faustoan Bargain said. “That wouldn’t work on my team because we have the Beacom of Light guiding us together as friends!” Monicro said. “The impression I always got from Smasher was that friendship was basically impossible in the Super League. Especially when it came to trying to win. Remember when the Cancun Tornadoes used an envelope they drafted to skip playing against the Somali Pirates? That’s basically cheating all levels of friendship and honor that your anime and JRPGs love so much,” Faustoan Bargain said. “Wrong! They simply completed a sidequest to do that!” Monicro said. “I can’t tell if I’d be annoyed or impressed by being able to skip the final boss if I completed some random sidequest. It’d have to tie into the story a lot better than ‘draft a blank envelope’ was,” Faustoan Bargain said.

“Which reminds me. I think I came in here to stop some great evil you were trying to summon,” Monicro said. “What? Oh yeah. Sorry. Uh, let me check the script… wa ha ha, hero. You’re too late. The inevitable will happen, and you will be doomed to this world below while the great evil, craigk, will be resummoned back into the Super League to cause havoc once again,” Faustoan Bargain said flatly. “You could’ve at least tried to sound more evil,” Monicro said. “I don’t really care. I’m just some filler mid-boss at the end of a dungeon 75% of the way through the game that you never saw before this point and will never see again,” Faustoan Bargain said. “Hey, I know I’ll see a palette swap of you as a regular enemy in the final dungeon!” Monicro said. “This does not make me feel any better,” Faustoan Bargain said.

And so the hero and the filler midboss dueled to the end while the great evil, craigk, continued to grow stronger and grow his division lead in the shadows.

Game Notes: Probably don’t need to 100% overreact to a seven game sample size, but scoring 2 runs a game at home and 8 runs a game on the road might be a sign to switch the stadium up next year.


“Man, this sucks! I’ll never be the big woman on campus here! But… what if… I were to try and get myself reincarnated in another world where I could be the big woman on campus?! Clown Fundamentals: this is so crazy, it just might work! Now, how do I get reincarnated… hmm, everywhere I look, they say you have to get hit by a truck. But that sounds painful. Can’t I just die tragically in an easier to access way? Like overdosing on antidepressants?” Clown Fundamentals continued to monologue to herself when shepard.shouldgo walked up behind her. “Hey,” shepard.shouldgo said. “Gah!” Clown Fundamentals fell back over her chair and passed out due to the shock.

When she woke up, she found herself in a strange forest. “Woah… where am I?” Clown Fundamentals asked. “Claude! I hear a voice over here! Maybe it’s another one that the bandits caught!” a voice said from the woods. A man who looked like shepard.shouldgo but cel-shaded and twelve years old as well as the man he called Claude came into the clearing with Clown Fundamentals. “Shepard? Is that you?” Clown Fundamentals asked. “How could some wild child like you know the honorable Shepard of House Shouldgo?” shepard.shouldgo replied. “That’s a silly question, we’re in the Sub-Par League together!” Clown Fundamentals said. “Shepard, is the Sub-Par League one of those stupid organizations that ‘appears good’ but is actually the host of the final boss?” Claude asked. “Of course not. I’ve never heard of the Sub-Par League. It seems like she hit her head bad, we should take her back to heal her,” Shepard Shouldgo said.

And so Claude and Shepard escorted the lost Clown Fundamentals back to Garreg Mach, explaining to her along the way where exactly she found herself. “Wait, you’re telling me that we’re going to a school?!” Clown Fundamentals asked. “Uh, yeah. Garreg Mach Monastery is home to the best military school in Fodlan. And like all good schools, there’s random stragglers living here with mysterious pasts. You can blend in with the masked weirdos until we figure out what’s going on with you,” Shepard said. Clown Fundamentals shook her head. “Nuh uh! I’m going to be the big woman on campus all this time!” she said. “Shepard, do you have any idea what a big woman on campus is?” Claude asked. “Uh, I’m not sure. But as the instructor for her class, I can teach her muscle building, I guess?” Shepard said.

“What? You guys don’t know what the big woman on campus is? Actually… that’s perfect! Then I can be the first big woman on campus, and everyone will look up to me!” Clown Fundamentals said. “That sounds sacrilegious. I can’t see Sothis being pleased with this,” Claude said. Clown Fundamentals didn’t hear him as she sped off into the dining hall. “Heyyyyyyy everyone! I’m Clown Fundamentals! I’m new here but I’m going to be the coolest person in Garreg Mach! Just you wait!” she yelled into the crowded cafeteria. Students stared at Clown Fundamentals, but she didn’t mind. Over the next few weeks, Clown Fundamentals did everything she could think of to boost her reputation. She hung out with the other popular kids, she let everyone borrow her notes, and she practiced military exercises harder and longer than anyone else. Soon enough, the students of Garreg Mach did know and look up to Miss Clown of House Fundamentals, despite her weird habit of calling herself the ‘big woman on campus’.

Clown Fundamentals awoke in her bed and found herself back in reality. “Wha–… no! This can’t be! I was finally the big woman on campus! Why am I back here?!” she yelled. A man sleeping in a chair beside her bed woke up. “Oh, you’re finally up? That’s good. I was very worried. You hit your head falling out of your chair when I came over, and didn’t wake up. I was just making sure you were alright,” shepard.shouldgo said. “No! My perfect life! All my dreams! Give them back! Take me out of the Sub-Par and put me back in Garreg Mach!” Clown Fundamentals said. “Oh yeah, that’s why I came over. Here, you can borrow Three Hopes now,” shepard.shouldgo said as he handed over the game’s box. “…Fine, I guess this world is fine enough,” Clown Fundamentals said as she booted up her Switch.

Game Notes: You can never trust Matlock.

And there you have it. Hopefully I never do this again.

About pungry

Making strained metaphors funny.
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1 Response to The Best of the Second Half of Subpar Season XX

  1. Hello, Pungry,

    Thank you for the update on clowns and Matlock! Can’t get enough…



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