I played Little League as basically a part of my parents' divorce terms. That and Jew school back-to-back on Sundays were the bane of my week.

Of course they stuck me on my Dad's friend's team, and we were the worst team in the league, which aggravated his gout constantly. Remember how the Mighty Ducks gave their first coach a coronary from sucking? That was us. With rich food.

But one year, we totally walloped the best team in the league in a first round playoff upset. We made kid's fuckin' cry, bro. Like 12 year olds. Big ones. With clubs.

Man, that was a great game.