Years ago, myself and Mak, as well as other minor contributors, developed the B’s of Baseball. A creed to live by during the summer months when the baseball season is in full tilt.
It is a privilege to know the B’s of Baseball. In no particular order, here they are:
(Also known as: beers, brews)
Absolute necessity. Booze must be present at all times. While this B was formerly known as “Beers” or “Brews”, Mak’s recent degeneracy of drinking whisky has caused it to be now known as “Booze”. All forms of booze are accepted, but it is strongly advised that it be beer, liquor, or champagne. Wine, wine coolers, O’Douls, and blueberry flavored beer are heavily discouraged. Also, dont be that guy that brings tequila.
(Also known as: bros)
Pretty straight-forward. I dont think this should cause issue unless you hang with a bunch of fag-hags. It just has to be in the fine print.
(Also known as: bitches, broads, boobs)
(I’ll probably make an effort to throw at least one pair of titties in every blog.)
This isnt an absolute necessity. I love a good old fashioned boys night out. BUT, bitches shall be present over 50% of the time.
This B was formerly known as “bitches”. I feel “babes” is just a better choice all around.
The preferred form of nightly meetings, as it never gets stale. Pallets are the preferred form of fuel. Half of a bottle of lighter fluid at minimum shall be utilized.
Dont be that hardo that thinks he has a fucking Master’s degree in pyrotechnics. Trying to impress the babes by playing with the fire, doing way too much tending, etc. is just fucking obnoxious. Every attendee must have a chair/seat. Also, dont be that guy that has all the babes sit on his lap at some point in the night. Find a couple potentials and stick to them. Skewing the flow of the beav alignment could frustrate your fellow boys.
(Also known as: burgers, BBQ, Bratwurst)
Every group of guys has that one dude that LIVES to grill. When he hears that the grill will be utilized, he suddenly thinks it is the Hunger Games to decide who is the grillmaster. Yes, I am that guy.
Please dont be that guy who bitches at the grillmaster to hurry up cooking the burger (or other foods).
There is no better feeling than you and your friends being at the perfect drunkness, dealing with still frozen patties, the host not having all of the spices you deem necessary for the perfect burger, having to fight off the stoners who bitch at you for having the heat setting to low/medium and to “hurry up”, bringing your boys a cooked burger, then having them tell you it was the best burger they’ve ever had. When that shit happens to me, I feel like my dick grows an extra inch every time. Of course my inability to woo a female due to my extreme lack in game, does not allow me to swing that dick like Hef on a viagra binge. Throughout all the adversity, the outcome is well worth it.
If you can do any of this shit on a boat, do it. Simple. Okay on to the next.
7. The Boss
Your playlist should have at least five Bruce Springsteen songs on it.
We all know the routine:
Everyone is pretty fucked up, then suddenly, the beginning of Glory Days starts to play. Every dude looks at each other with the same “oh shit” face while seeing double; its show time. All the females have no idea what the fuck is going on. All of the dudes begin to start singing along, of course they are belting the lyrics in an “I have to be the loudest” fashion. Then, things get spicy. A couple people remain on the lyrics, while the rest go to their respective instrument. Got a couple people air-guitaring. One dude is slapping the bass way too fucking hard. Someone is a hero, bites the bullet, and takes drums. I’m pretty sure one dude is so fucked up he begins air-keyboarding when there clearly is no such instrument utilized in the song, but everyone just lets him do his thing. In perfect harmony, the Boss is respected in the only way he deserves. In the morning, one dude wakes up with little memory of the previous night with a sore neck, and begins to realize he was that guy head-banging like a mad man.
Born to Run must be played.
A classic beer-in-one-hand game for the boys. Get a chick to be your partner, you get to do anal (at least I think that is how it works, like I said, I have atrocious game with humans of the opposite gender). Sand is the preferred playing field. If needed, the Pythagorean Theorem may be used in order to calculate which ball is closer.
Buy a nice set too. Walmart’s sets are fucking garbage, spend the extra $20 or so to get a dope set that will last.
(Google Search a picture of a chick’s ass on a beach (girl beach ass), gotta reach our ass-loving readers)
I wont dive too deep into this one, as I am not a big ocean guy. I live in NH, our water is so cold that after 15 minutes of swimming, your balls begin to tickle your gag reflex.
This also applies to lakes though. Here in NH, our lakes are arguably the best part of our destitute state, and enjoying the B’s of baseball at a lake are strongly encouraged.
The ocean beach is greasy as fuck too.
I love the female classic rockstars that flat out BELT. That is all.
a) Boonks/Bogies: Nicotine is bad, dont get addicted to that shit.
b) Bombs: Due to its close association with home runs, it was removed.
c) Benzene: One life lost is one too many.
d) Barry Manilow: Sally snuck this one by us, was quickly removed upon notice.
e) Balls: (See d)
f) Bitches: (See 3) Its 2017, cant say that anymore. Glass ceiling. Maternity leave. Yada yada yada.
I did not list all of the B’s of Baseball. There are a lot. Some of them are somewhat menial, but I digress (I feel smart say that). It is a privilege to even be allowed to read this excerpt of the creed to the B’s of baseball. BUT, if there is one thing you take away from this…
Bylaws – Article I. Section A.
BASEBALL SHALL NEVER BE PLAYED, SIMULATED, OR REFERENCED TOWARDS WHATSOEVER, WHILE ONE IS CONDUCTING ONESELF UNDER THE GUIDELINES OF THE B’S OF BASEBALL.