#312 : Ball Bag’s Blundering Buffoonery

The Build-Up (Or Lack Thereof)It started with a message from our illustrious resident Octogenarian (that is someone over 80 for those of you that don’t understand words longer than 6 letters) , BallBag, who informed Arsenic that the courts were “booked”.

In BallBag-speak, “booked” apparently means “Ibooked out and none are avaiable.”

Arsenic, being the diligent soul he is, created the poll, and suddenly we were all scheduled for a night of drills and… well, mostly just standing around.

The “Grand” Arrival
The dedicated crew—Eno, Tristan, Baah, and Pepe—rocked up with high hopes and low expectations. Arsenic arrived shortly after to drop the first bombshell: we didn’t actually have a court. But the plot thickened. It turns out BallBag wasn’t just late; he was at last week’s run location. Now, that is a level of dedication to the past that I can almost respect. He missed the run so much he decided to go and do it solo, seven days too late. Absolute gold.

The Sighting
While we sat there hydrating with beers and waiting for the Hare to find the correct week on his calendar, something miraculous happened. On the court directly in front of us was a perfect 10.
I’m talking flawless. Every part of her was peak performance. Of course, the reality check hit us harder than a 200km/h serve: none of us weary Hashmen would ever get so much as a sniff unless there was a parked bicycle seat somewhere nearby.

Fresh Meat might have had a chance if a bacon sandwich was involved, but for the rest of us, it was strictly a spectator sport.

The “Feast” and The Fallout
BallBag eventually graced us with his presence, confirmed for the third time that there was indeed no court, and then did the unthinkable. He vanished. He didn’t even stick around for the gourmet catering—Dominos Pizza.
Honestly, it was a massive step down from the superior perfectly rotated snags and white bread with two types of onions so clearly he didn’t miss anything.

For the second week in a row, we officially broke with tradition. Given the “scenery” on the court and the lack of a Hare, we had no circle and no charges. Just a group of men sitting in the dark, eating pizza, and questioning their life choices.

OnOn