As 6:27 rolled around, and YHC still stood in the dark with only Pope and Bam Bam at his side, it was clear that the holidays would have a substantial impact on this Peltch beatdown. We were wondering if the car parked on the far end of the lot held a brooding Yankee Joe or a Monkey made of Brass when out of the lonely gloom did appear a pair of overbright headlights and a camper cover that could only mean one thing–Wet Tap would be easing our sense of abandonment with his warm demeanor and willing muscles. And, it was Brass Monkey after all, waiting for more than one adult to show up before joining the small talk (I don’t blame him).
Just as YHC was figuring modifications for a smaller group, another humanoid was spotted picking his way across the street toward the parking lot. He was too big to be Honeysuckle and coming from the wrong direction, and the F3 on his shirt confirmed that he wasn’t there for travel ball. As he got closer, his glasses and red hair shone in the moonlight revealing the one and only Cardinal! Being called out for fartsacking last time he stayed at his parents’ house across the street from the park had clearly made an impact.
As SSH commenced and transitioned into windmills, grateful for these three PAX and the chance to share the morning with Cardinal, another hard-to-identify vehicle confidently pulled into the lot. Valve? No. Dox in another relative’s truck? No. Tap then correctly identified none other than Percleator!! He had come in the night before for Tap’s DC circle meeting and ran in like he always had in year’s past, like a golden retriever, eyes blazing with excitement, ready for whatever. It was like the first months of F3 Thibodaux all over again. Even Brass Monkey had a striking resemblance to Gordon, a smile permanently on his face, glad to be there, but clearly concerned that Goose is going to take it too far again.
Warmups finished with some much needed Lafayette night clubs after Popeye’s shoulder shredder on Thursday, and we moseyed with a couple of coupons and a couple of tennis balls to the football field. It was, again, locked down like a prison, but YHC knew we’d be fine given that Cardinal was with us and Popeye had shown us last week where the gate beckoned us in through it’s gap in the bars on the far side.
We lined up on the goal line, and YHC split us into two teams. The Thang was designed for teams of 3, so given the fact that there were 7 PAX and one was YHC’s less than consistent 2.0, YHC decided to take him (Bam Bam) and Pope to make it Dawson’s vs. The World. YHC assumed that Bam Bam would slow us down enough to give the foursome a chance. YHC was wrong.
The first Thang was a team suicide in 10 yard increments down the length of the field. While one man stayed on the goal line doing curls, another ran to the 10 and stayed there. The third ran past him, high-fiving him on the way to the 20 where he began doing big boy situps. Upon receiving the high five, the man at the 10 ran back to replace the man at the goal line doing curls, and that man ran to the 30, high-fiving his teammate at the 20, etc. You get the drill.
We did this for three rounds total with the winning team assigning a penalty exercise to the other. The second round was tricep curls at the goal line and Freddy Mercurys on the yard lines, and the third was goblet squats at the goal line and LBC’s on the yard lines.
Bam Bam proved that he’s growing up, and Pope continues to prove that he’s made of some kind of lightweight rubber, so 20 monkey humpers were assigned after each round to team CardTapPercleMonkey. Team Dawson joined the third round of humpers in order to keep the other team from getting bigger quads than them.
After three rounds, a shared desire to stop running had descended upon the PAX, so YHC knew the only thing to do was to keep running. The 2nd Thang would be a version of Rarajapari, where each team is responsible for moving a ball along a given path using only their feet and team strategery. We started at a random cone that was already on the track, and the teams were tasked with getting their tennis ball around twice (half a mile).
Onc completed, 20 more monkey humpers were enjoyed by all before grabbing gear and coupons and heading back through the gap in the fence toward the flag. We dropped the coupons there and then continued to the nearest baseball field for some fistbasetennisball. We basically played baseball with a tennis ball and our fists as bats. It was all against all with each member of the PAX taking turns batting and trying to get around the bases.
The fielders and base runners had to hold plank until the ball was hit and in play, and positions rotated with every batter. Per usual, we had a blast, performances weren’t likely to make Sport Center, and Cardinal somehow took home the win by scoring the most runs. Thankfully, some things never change.
After about 15 minutes of this reward for the gasser at the track, we moseyed back to the flag for one minute of Mary, count offs, name offs, COT, and a photo session that would make Dox proud. YHC was ecstatic for the unexpected time dialation that brought these awesome men together and paired the true OG of F3 Thibodaux with a solid member of the new batch. It was tough to want to part from this gathering, but pancakes, Morgan City, and Baton Rouge wouldn’t wait forever, so after some story swapping and catching Brass Monkey up on some of the origins of so great a PAX, we loaded up, grateful for swollen legs and timeless brotherhood.
SYITG,
Goose
