I'll have to admit that I was skeptical about this whole thing actually happening. You have to consider the source. I mean, could Jim
really
handle something like this? My mind went back to a few years ago. Father's Day. I came up with the idea to surprise our dad and take him up to Dyersville to Field of Dreams. We had to leave early because he had a party that evening. We were going to leave at 7am. I tell Jim to try and not be a fuck-up for once and show up on time. Naturally, he was over an hour late. So how could he be expected to host a weekly league?
Luckily for all, it's worked out. Rumblings have been heard that Tom Swanson had to call Jim when he heard of all of this going, telling him not to be such a ninny and just make the goddamned thing work. That's neither here nor there. Like I said, it's all worked out fine. It's been a great Thursday evening diversion. It's a time when the guys can be together, throw some shoes, drink their favorite beverages, cuss, piss wherever they want, use tobacco products, divulge bloated and overconfident sports bets, and tell a few lies.
I'm calling this season a success, and not just because I've been the runaway champion this year. Most typically I'm as sober as a church mouse during these precedings (I've taken a vow to try and not consume alcohol during the work week - I pretty much adhere to that, most of the time), so I think I'm in a good position to give a recap on the inaugural season.
The Contenders
Nick Swanson - the numbers don't lie. If only the league statistician would post them, you wouldn't be forced to just take my word for it. Seems like said statistician was having no problem posting them when he was at or at least within sniffing distance of the top.
Tom Swanson
- the horseshoe patriarch. He's taught so many people to throw shoes. For years he was the unquestioned leader, the top of the backyard horseshoe food chain. Wear and tear from too many Caribbean vacations may have slowed him some, but not much. Prone to cliched slogans (Ringer time, partner!) and questionable use of the English language, Tom is eerily quiet in the Trash Talking Dept. Rather than taunting, he seems to prefer to walk tall and throw a big horseshoe.
Matt Roll - the up-and-comer. It seems just years ago that Matt was throwing shoes off the wrong foot and was an albatross when drawn as a partner. My how times have changed. His footwork was drastically improved (Jay Cutler and Donovan McNabb ain't got SHEEIT on Matt), and his horseshoe rotation has become something that many players envy. If he wasn't constantly pulled away by family duties, we could be talking a scoring champ.
The SD Chargers
(look great, but can't put it all together)
Jim Swanson - the commish. It's almost a call to the old times when there were
player/managers. Frank Robinson might have been the last to do it. With Jim, the talent is there. That cannot be questioned. But does he have too much on his plate? Is that robbing him of the critical concentration required to be a contender? Maybe it's the smoke hanging from his mouth, I dunno. All we know is that he's a guy that can skunk you out of a match (that's 11-0 to you n00bs), but he's also a guy that can get skunked. When the all the chips are down, and it's coming down to one make or break toss, you just can't take Jim at this point.
Adam Roll - the Missourian. You'd think the tall drink of water would have an advantage over everyone. The guy has such long legs that he's goddamn near halfway to the stake when he throws. Known as The Missourian because of sometime unleashing shoes that spin faster than a dreidl, you can't put your finger on why Adam doesn't ringer more than he does. He frequently laments of how much he gets modelo'd, which is true. It's also true that to be modelo'd, you have to be near the stake. It also means that you're just not quite there. There is room for improvement.
The Peloton
Dave Roll - the Ol Scarbelly. Talk about night and day. Dave is either on for the night, or he's off for the night. There is no in between. Early on Dave was at the head of the overall points race, dropping his patented "Tumbling Dice" ringers on all comers and bathing in victory. The problem is, you can't rely on throwing ringers that have to bounce and roll to get to the stake. A mid-season squabble ensued when Dave was snubbed for the Championship Game. It appears that the wounds ran deep, as he has yet to recover his form.
Erik Roll - the Condor. A high sailing shoe with minimal rotation. With what rotation there is, it's in the form of a flat spin. Soft and sticky pits see his shoes raining down into the point area like manna from heaven. That being said, the spin still needs to be tweaked, getting it to open up to the stake at the point of touch down. But like Han Solo says, "Well, that's the trick, isn't it?"
"Lucky" Joe Kelly - the Phoenix. Joe has had by far the most different styles come and go during the season. Week One allegedly saw some great throwing, reaping points and yielding ringers, earning him the "Lucky" monicker. Since then he has been slumming it in the dredges, with an occasional spike of success. Perhaps his manly hands are too much for the shoes, perhaps Jim's whopper taunts have caused some damage, or perhaps he doesn't give a shit and just wants to hang. The jury is hung (like a buck field mouse).
Matt Kolar - the Kid. Regardless of what his scoring stats look like this year, no
one will forget that he was the guy that got hit in the dong by a horseshoe. Yeah, who knew it was possible? Is it a sidewinding shoe that he throws? Is it an end-over-end flopper? Is it a horrible southpaw attempt at the true "Myron Swanson" style throw? No one knows, it changes often, sometimes mid-game or even mid round. He's prone to occasional hot streaks, but mostly you can count on spotty scoring, loud talking, and telling people what the betting lines are.
A. Jim Kelly - the (Silver) Fox. Sometimes he's there, mostly he's not. He's maybe thrown the least of anyone, and it shows in his stat output. Not enough data to make a definitive conclusion.
Matt Magers - Big Mage. For a guy that has horseshoe pits in his own yard, he sure could stand to be a bit better. Mayhap he has too many irons in the fire, what with golf league, dart league, pool league, and running a gas station in Davenport's "Boy's Town" section. I'll need to see a larger body of work before I make brash declarations.
See y'all in twenty twelve...
