Play Little League World Series Bingo
The first pitch has been thrown today for this year’s Little League World Series (formal name: Little League World Series Presented by Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes Reduced Sugar. That’s Kellogg Frosted Flakes Reduced Sugar. Good, and good for you, and we have a lawsuit settlement to prove it.)
You might ask yourself: I’m a grown person, so how can I watch the Little League World Series without feeling like a perv? Well, I’m here with the answer: Little League World Series Bingo.
Just create a card, bingo-style. Then put it on your coffee table, along with your dauber and lucky skull candle. Then, fill in the squares as the item in each box occurs. It’s more fun with more people! I’d recommend either inviting your friends, or crabby old ladies pissed they can no longer smoke at church bingo because of clean air rules. Light ’em if you got ’em, granny!
The beauty of Little League World Series Presented by Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes Reduced Sugar (“Because we know you fat little fuckers will never touch Special K”) Bingo is that you can customize it to the events over the next 10 days of competition, based on what happens during the games, among the announcing crew or with the old ladies in your living room. So here are some categories to put in your boxes until you add your own twist:
— Brent Musberger says, “You’ve looking liiiiivvveee… .”
— Someone calls the game some variation of “pure.”
— A boy cries.
— A boy’s coach and/or father slaps him for crying.
— A coach cries, and his son slaps him for crying.
— A coach has a mustache.
— A coach has a mustache and glasses.
— A coach has a mustache, glasses and a neck port-wine stain.
— A coach argues with an umpire.
— A coach gets kicked out of the game.
— An umpire kicks a coach out of the game because the man in blue has acted all game like he’s the despotic ruler of the Imperial Palace.
— Kids chase after a home run ball like it’s Barry Bonds’ 756th.
— Grownups chase a home run ball like it’s Barry Bonds’ 756th.
— The retrospective of the Urbandale, Iowa, team begins with a shot of a cornfield. (The one where they get the raw materials for Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes Reduced Sugar. Because who needs sugar when you have high fructose corn syrup?)
— There’s a retrospective of former Little League World Series players who became major-leaguers (and Chris Drury).
— There’s a retrospective of former Little Leage World Series players who became shells of themselves after being pushed by starry-eyed parents and coaches who graduated from the Dusty Baker School of Saving Arms to the edge of their abilities, only to fall apart at a tender age in front of a wide audience (and Danny Almonte). (This is not likely, so you get this category, you’re screwed.)
— A pitcher snaps off a curveball…
— …and his arm snaps off.
— Announcers come up with all sorts of euphemisms so they don’t describe anyone and everyone on the Taiwan team as “inscrutable.”
— The marketing director of a sponsor gets interviewed on the air…
— … and that marketing director is from Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes Reduced Sugar (“Because they’re Grrrrrr… eh, just OK.)
— A mom is shown cheering.
— A mom is shown crying.
— A mom is shown getting pasted in the face by a line-drive foul.
— Vice President Joe Biden shows up in the booth purportedly to talk about his entry in the Little League’s hall of fame…
— … and President Obama an hour later puts out a statement refuting or trying to explain what he said.
— Fans scream.
— Fans boo the ump.
— Fans dance around in ways that make you wonder if the concession stands sell LLWS-logo emblazoned acid tabs.
— Someone in the stands holds up a sign that plays off the televising network’s acronym.
— Someone in the stands holds up a sign that plays off their hometown AND the televising network’s acronym.
— A kid looks like he’s 16.
— A kid looks like he’s 8.
— A kid looks like he wasn’t wearing a cup on that play.
— You feel shame you know sideline announcer Moises Arias plays “Rico” on Hannah Montana…
— …because you don’t have a 9-year-old daughter.
— The announcers encourage you to follow Moises Arias’ Twitter posts…
— … followed by the question, “So [announcer/color analyst/sideline reporter who is not Moises Arias], are you a tweeter?” (Sound of everyone in booth chortling.)
— Current or former major-leaguer shows up in the booth…
— … and says, “Why in hell are we televising this? This kids aren’t even teenagers yet! Isn’t this a bit much? Have you no shame?” (This is not likely, so you get this category, you’re screwed.)