By this point I assume that pretty much anyone reading the Idaho Lax Reporter knows that Scallywags won the Brawl again this year. I considered doing a game-by-game recap like I did for the Bigfoot Summer Bender in June (Part 1, Part 2). I’ve decided two things about that, however:
1) writing a meticulous recap of your fourth consecutive championship at the same tournament is maybe a little pompous (hell, winning a fourth consecutive is pretty pompous); and
2) reading a meticulous recap of some team winning their fourth consecutive championship at the same tournament is maybe a little… well, let’s say “boring” (though I’m sure other more descriptive adjectives would fit here too).
So I’m going to get that whole thing out of the way right off the bat here with a quick photomontage of Scallywag d-baggery after whomping Bainbridge 8-0 in the final (see what I did there?)
There. Aren’t you glad that’s out of the way? Me too. Anyways, instead of wasting all my time recapping our glorious undefeated title run (dammit! I did it again!), I’m going to focus on some smaller stories that are a little more interesting/entertaining/easier to write. The first one I call…
Flava Fletch and the Fantastic Fifteen
I’ll need to clarify something right off the bat, much like Charles Barkely before him, Eric Fletcher is not a role model. As such, though this story ends on the field on Sunday afternoon, it began on Saturday night at the poorly-attended Brawl BBQ (we’ll come back to that in a future post), with a beer in his hand. And it continued to the comparatively well-attended back-yard Scallywag/Lost Boy campout at Jake Wilson’s place, where Eric was eventually forced to go to bed when no longer could anyone interpret the slurred nonsense that flowed endlessly from his very unparched lips.
And it then continued the next morning when he woke up, stumbled out of his tent, cracked open a beer and still-drunkenly declared “I’m-a score 15 goals today. Let’s ball.”
And we laughed. Oh how we laughed.
About an hour later, Fletchy dropped 8 on top of Issaquah’s frowning faces.
An hour after that, he managed another 3 against Team LAS.
And so, the stage was set. 11 goals down, 4 to go — Bainbridge coming up in the championship. I’m not going to pretend that I remember how he scored his first 3. All I remember is the 4th: Scallywags are up 7-0 with 10 seconds to go in the game. Bainbridge has the ball and takes one final rip in a desperate attempt to avoid the shutout. No such luck. Instead, keeper Shawn Carman snatches the popcorn out of the air and wings it downfield to a somewhat-open Eric Fletcher just past midfield. Fletcher snags it, slips his lone defender, and buries it as time expires. Number 15 on the day. 5 hat tricks squeezed into 3 games.
Come to think of it, maybe Flave is a role model. I think this story is a testament to setting goals for yourself. Early that day, he staggered out of his tent half-retarded and announced that his goal was to bury 15 balls in the back of the net. And that’s just what he did. So here’s the moral of the story, parents: if you want your kids to be good at lacrosse, make sure they’ve had enough to drink. You heard it here first.